


Desert Rose

by bipalium



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Bullshit Science, Character Death, Eva/Ocelot but not really, Explicit Sexual Content, Lame superpowers, M/M, Mad Kaz: Fury Road, Post-Apocalypse, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-03-07 20:46:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13443069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bipalium/pseuds/bipalium
Summary: In the mad world, sick becomes normal.A decade after a nuclear strike, on a death-ride through the wasteland Venom Snake and McDonell Miller forge their path. Foes become allies, joining forces against a shared enemy.





	1. Chapter 1

The sand caught the air, grains sharp in the corners of his eyes. Revolver Ocelot tugged on his scarf to hide his face. He nudged a long since rotten body with a boot tip – chest pried open, lungs burned into coal. Flies swirled above it, excited for the feast. The face was distorted into a shapeless mass.

He looked down from the top of the dune through binoculars. The truck was moving across the desert, roaring within its metal shell, spikes of steel, loud revving. Too obnoxious, too noticeable.

He reloaded the rifle. Sand got into every crook of his body, grazing between his ass cheeks, crunching on his teeth. He winced, aiming. In the middle of the crosshairs he saw the loathsome face of his target with a long piece of shrapnel looming from his skull. The devil himself operated the hell machine.

“Farewell, Dep.” 

Venom Snake hummed along to the song from a tape he’d borrowed in Nothern Tataouine. It was catchy despite the slow, rolling guitar tune; he’d already knew the lyrics by heart, and even DD wiggled his tail to the rhythm.

The scalding sun glared to the windshield at the turn. Venom pulled the map on the sun shade a bit lower, once again glancing at the marked spot and the torn photo pinned to the corner. DD sprung up and barked through _No, I don't want to fall in love_. A swish tore the air, hit the metal armor. Alert, Venom put his bionic hand on the dog’s head and sped the truck up. They didn’t have time for company.

Up the dune, Revolver Ocelot cursed under his breath. Never been good with sniper rifles.

Sandstorm didn’t keep them waiting. Venom slapped the goggles on top of his eyepatch and lowered DD’s to protect his eye. There wasn’t any clean air; they breathed in dust. He gave away his last beef jerky to DD. That _McDongers_ had better serve damn good sandwiches. Some gas, too.

Life Valley cut into rocky landscape, rare lodges watched them with prying eyes. DD whined, putting his nose on Venom’s lap.

“I can see it, DD,” Venom squinted. Farther south peeked a roof unlike one of the aboriginal cabins. Cacti thickened alongside the road. What a perfect place for a lonesome cowboy.

Venom paid one last glance to the photo and pocketed it. He killed the engine in front of the joint – of course it didn’t have a parking lot – and jumped out of the truck. DD outran him with excited barks, advancing to the entrance. Hell, the place even had a neon sign, the G in _McDongers_ long since blinked off. Struck with a bullet, looks like.

Inside, Venom lowered his scarf and took a deep breath, for once of fresh air that was circulated by a slow ceiling fan. Well, fresh was a little far-fetched. DD was already sitting at one of the tables, nuzzling a bottle of mustard. Venom perched in a seat, eyeing surroundings for a possible menu that he couldn’t spot.

He grabbed the bottle and made several knocks against the table. Nobody came.

“Don’t worry,” he rubbed DD’s back. “Today we’re having lunch for sure.”

After a dozen more knocks, some door banging and shuffling finally surfaced.

“Calm the fuck down, you bastard! I’m coming!”

And the man appeared from behind the counter. He was limping, leaning onto an old-fashioned crutch. He wore aviators indoors, but even with them on his glare was unmistakable.

“What the hell do you want?”

Venom exchanged glances with DD, both cocked their heads. He eyed the owner from head to toe and once more extracted the photo. Well, Miller had changed a bit.

“I’d like to see the menu,” Venom said politely. Miller gaped, scratched his temple. His hair had grown long and was kept in a greasy ponytail, nothing like that lush pompadour in the picture. Even though he aged well, his face had roughened with scarce wrinkles; his tank top revealed a prosthesis in the place of his right arm.

“Listen, you don’t just get in and demand some shit like a fucking menu.”

“Me and my dog want something to eat,” Venom said, _politely._ “You got anything?”

Miller leaned onto his crutch, sighed. Stepped back. Ran a hand across his sweaty forehead.

“You came after me, didn’t you,” he mouthed, looking down. And before Venom could blink, his back was hit hard; he crouched, wriggling out of a strangling hold. The crutch was a facade.

“Where did you get that picture from?” Miller creaked, hardening his grip. Venom didn’t move; DD barked but wasn’t attempting to attack.

Venom heard an evident gun cocking. Then felt pressure against the back of his head. “I’m not having–”

With a lenient shove, Venom slid from Miller’s grip and slithered behind him, pressing a knife against a throbbing vein in his neck. Miller froze, tense in Venom’s firm grasp like a tiger before a spring.

“Don’t move and you’ll live,” Venom muttered to his ear.

Miller was a wise man, for he neither nodded nor said anything.

“Good.”

Venom slammed him face down the table. Something creaked with a metallic scratch. He held Miller down, clasping his skull with his bionic hand. Miller’s aviators slid from his nose, blood dripped to the polished wood. He made a dry chuckle.

“McDonell, you’re coming with me.”

Silence. They could get along.

“One thing you should know. I’m taking you to _him_.”

Miller’s shoulders went stiff. DD put his paws on the table, sticking his tongue out.

“But first, feed me and my dog. We’ve been on the road for five days straight. I also need gas and all your weapons.”

In twenty minutes they were digging into the most delicious hamburgers Venom had had in his life. The patty was just greasy enough – medium rare, lettuce crispy, sauce sweet with a little spice. He devoured two almost without chewing. Miller sat down, smoking.

“How do you make them so fresh?” Venom asked around a mouthful. Miller didn’t tear his gaze from the wall.

“Chemicals.”

And that was the last word he’d heard from Miller in the next three days. They had packed hastily; Miller had enough guns for a small army, as expected from an ex-military base commander. Not much gas, but enough to make it to South Nevada.

Venom had set the place on fire before departing. Miller hadn’t even turned to look at the flames.

Water supplies were tight. DD barely moved on the rear seat. Mostly slept. So did Miller. _Wicked Game_ played for four hundred and seventy eighth time.

“I’m not one of the clones, if it makes any difference,” Venom uttered, peering at the empty road. The setting sun bathed the desert in bronze rays.

Miller hadn’t removed a cigarette from his mouth for hours, peering out of the window with his arm winded over the door. His prosthetic was quite an old model and groaned with every stir. Venom expected no answer, and that he got.

But an hour later, Miller finally snapped.

The stereo was turned off with an abrupt motion of metallic fingers.

“You don’t like Chris Isaak’s voice?” Venom inquired, glancing at him.

“Stop the car.”

He sighed and bit onto the Phantom Cigar.

“McDonell, we’re in the middle of nowhere. You have no place to return.”

“I need to take a shit, you dumbass!”

Pure spite emanated from beneath his glasses. A severe stomach rumble no longer covered up with soothing melody reached Venom’s ears.

They stopped next to a sprout of cacti. Miller didn’t mind. DD ran around the truck, happy to stretch his legs. Venom gathered some herbs and leaned to the bumper, picking a jack rabbit corpse from the spikes for a nice campfire dinner he wasn’t sure they’d have. He closed his eye for a second, and dozed off.

The noise of approaching running snapped him awake.

“Get in the car, asshole!” Miller grabbed his collar, dragging him in. DD was already in the cabin. Venom looked both sides, slamming the door shut and starting the engine.

“Move, move!”

A single silver glint up a dune caught his eye. He slammed the throttle.

Miller sharply patted the double’s shoulder and glanced all around, shifting in his seat. None of the windows were bulletproof, what the point of metallic armor was out of his comprehension. The double was an much a show-off as the real deal.

They wheeled away fast, and Miller eased into the seat. His stomach was still in knots but not because of indigestion. He didn’t abandon his dream to get killed by a random sniper in a godforsaken wasteland.

The double focused his empty eye on the road. Such a shell of a man, every single feature – that mouth twitch, that pathetic brow arch, fucking _everything_ about him was sickening.

A sharp glint shone right above the double’s metal horn.

“Get down!”

Miller pinned him down, catching the wheel and praying to a non-existent god that any other vehicle or a massive rock wouldn’t appear and smash them dead.

With growing terror, Miller watched the glint chasing them through the dunes. At 55 mph.

“We have to take that thing down!” he yelled to the double’s ear. Even now he looked way too calm for a human being.

“There’s some good stuff in the back,” he said in that uncannily familiar voice. Familiar but even moreso, the difference was obvious.

Crouching, Miller turned to the rear seat and rummaged through the junk: empty cans, packets, rags. The dog butted something oblong wrapped in canvas with its nose. Miller jerked the cover away and stared at a massive rocket launcher.

“Holy shit,” he breathed out and cracked a grin.

“That good enough?” the double asked with a hint of boast.

“I can live with it.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Venom watched Miller clambering out of the open window.

“Wait,” he caught him by the prosthesis. “Put on a helmet.”

So he did. Still wasn’t the best idea, but what else could they do? Venom hoped the man’s aim was as good as the legends said, and that he wouldn’t be thrown out of the truck with the recoil. As if sensing his concern, DD bit onto Miller’s artificial ankle.

“Slow down!” Miller yelled. “Here... No, speed up!”

Venom did as ordered, glancing to the blinking gleam.

“You ready?” Miller roared from above.

“Now!”

A deafening boom went off, creating a thick cloud of white smoke. The rocket whizzed and hit; Miller whipped inside. Venom hid his head, the explosion wave reverberated in his skull. They both looked up: the glint wasn’t there anymore.

“Bull’s eye!” Miller laughed and tousled DD’s head. Venom smiled, looking at them, and  glimpsed a shadow swiping in front of the truck.

A tight smash jolted the car and he hit the brakes, jumping out from the cabin.

“Get back here, idiot!”

On the armor’s spikes sprawled a woman’s body. Dozens of belts, water canteens, a sniper rifle. Venom walked up and snatched the rifle and a knife away, aiming between her brows.

The woman groaned.

There were thankfully no grenades on her, unless she had a hidden bomb somewhere. Her bare stomach bled badly, blood covered her face. A rather pretty one.

Cautiously, Venom lifted her chin up. She winced, spat to his face.

“You’ll live,” he said with a grin.

“What the hell, Snake?”

Miller halted on his left, panting. DD snuggled up to his leg.

“We’re taking her along,” said Venom. The girl lost consciousness and he lifted her onto his shoulder.

“Why? Are you nuts?”

Miller made a helpless gesture, scowling. Venom paid him a long glance.

“You’ve seen her speed. Might be useful.”

“You’re a fucking lunatic,” Miller spat to the ground and kicked a bloodied spike.

“Well, at least you finally regard me as a Snake.”

Now that one took him aback.

He didn’t talk for the next five hours.

The dog tag on the girl’s neck read Quiet. Living up to her name, she didn’t speak – couldn’t. While treating her wounds – no vitals took damage – Venom noted that her chest was pocked with abscessed blotches, and every breath she took was drawn and heavy. Well, if it’d come to worst he’d do it.

She didn’t eat the offered barbequed rabbit either. Miller settled for his chemicals. DD and Venom dug in their favorite meal.

Stars were high that windless night.

Miller watched Snake stirring some broth in a tin can. He looked aloof whenever he wasn’t speaking, but now his slouch and heavy eyelid showed how drained he was. DD slept by his feet.

“Here,” Snake handed him the can.

“You trying to poison me?” Miller narrowed his eyes at the turbid drink and took it.

“It normalizes metabolism. Derives toxins from your body.”

With a huff, Miller gulped the broth. It was thick on his tongue, a little sandy. Tasted like shit. He swallowed with effort, fighting the urge to throw up.

Quiet lowered her chin on her crossed arms. She sat further from the fire wrapped in her scarf, her body slow and heavy. Horn must’ve drugged her while treating her wounds. They hadn’t even tied her hands, even though there was enough weaponry on the rear seat to sabotage that little trip. But Horn and Glasses Asshole were cheerfully oblivious, chatting like they’re on vacation, not on a death ride.

She was awfully tired. Maybe not tonight.

The desert was asleep, their camp the only vivid spot filled with hushed voices and fire crackle.

She wanted to cry. There was no way to escape now, not after failing a mission this important. Damn these bastards for foiling her suicide.

The dog came up to her, nuzzled her thigh and made a small whine. What a tame beast. Quiet patted its head with a weak hand.

Just one night in a tent recharged Venom to the maximum. He’d ran into a long forgotten tape in the glove compartment and had been blasting it for hours. That one was to Miller’s liking. He wouldn’t cease smoking, though.

“You’ll run out of these soon if you won’t stop,” Venom noted. Miller rolled his eyes.

“Nevada is close,” he shrugged. 

His stomach was much better. Hell, he hadn’t felt this light in years. He hated to admit that apparently this Snake was gifted with something the original had never had.

He also loved to sing. His repertoire was limited dramatically, but he did have a nice singing voice. And the more Miller listened to it the more he was noticing how different it was. Sometimes it would lull Miller into sleep and he’d wake up with DD snuggling in his lap. Such a needy dog. Loved his burgers, too.

South Nevada was a runaway paradise. A beloved place of bandits and headhunters, too, for it had all kinds of weapons, medicine, cigarettes, alcohol, you name it. An oasis in the desert.

David lit up a cigarette and kneeled, observing the streets from the Sand Hotel roof. The glint of metal grazed far off the town entrance.

“I can see Hell Machine,” he said, turning. “They’ll be here roughly in fifteen minutes,”

“Fifteen more minutes? Bloody hell, I’m bored to death.”

Eli lowered to the folding chair and flipped his hair. Who the fuck takes a folding chair to a mission?

“All you do is complain,” David snorted through the smoke. He watched prostitutes running from one casino to another. The redhead had a nice ass.

“Brother, you’re too tense,” said Eli, his steps echoing across the rooftop. “It’s a piece of cake. Dep is a mongrel anyway.”

David fished a tranquilizer gun from one of his many belted bags.

“And you’re too obnoxious,” he said, rubbing the gun with a cloth. “Venom Snake might not be one of us, but he’s good. And Hell Master didn’t get his name for nothing.”

Eli tsked.

“You’re just like George. Unbearably tedious,” he sighed, stopping next to David, hands in pockets. “We’re superior, end of story. And regarding Commander Sap, I remember Seychelles. How he went on full-blown scorned wife rampage after he found out Boss’s plan. It was bloody pathetic.”

“Shut your mouth.”

“What? Getting all nostalgic, aren’t you Dave?”

David closed his eyes. There wasn’t time for that.

“I respect him. Always have.”

Eli’s hyena laughter scratched his ears.

“Commander Sap got himself a Sap Subordinate.”

“Fuck you. And put on a balaclava already, your hair is an eyesore here. It’s a stealth mission, for fuck’s sake.”

“But my styling!”

Still such a pissbaby even in his late twenties. David flinched: a familiar red scarf and a spot of short blond hair slipped over the corner of the opposite building.

“What the hell is Ocelot doing here?”

That was bad. The worst case scenario. Not only he had to deal with his whiny brother now, but also with the Executioner. He’d better stumble into Venom Snake and Master Miller before Ocelot did.

Venom and Miller had decided to split for getting supplies. Quiet took DD, or rather it was DD who followed her. Miller voiced his concern that she could run away even from him.

“She could,” Venom mused, smoking. “That’s up to her. But I don’t think she will.”

At that, Miller raised an eyebrow. Mumbled something resembling an insult on the turn of his heels. He wouldn’t, either.  

After loading a dozen plastic water barrels back into the truck, Venom hit a bar. It was dark, cozy. They would stay the night in a hotel, so he allowed himself a gin. It reeked of spiritus, but still was the nicest drink he’d had in months.

DD and Quiet returned first, empty-handed. Quiet plopped on a barstool next to him and motioned to the bartender. He stared from behind the counter.

“One vodka martini,” Venom translated her finger-speech.

She’d almost completely recovered. Still looked a bit worn due to sedatives.  

“Did you unload the goods?” he asked in a hushed voice. She nodded and took her drink. The bartender’s gaze lingered on her chest and she tugged on her scarf, paying him a murdering look.

In a dark alley, Venom purchased some rare medicine and a small bottle of rum. He didn’t know what Miller preferred, but thought it a good idea to get a stash.

After two hours of waiting in the truck Miller still hadn’t returned. Venom gave DD the cushion Miller had used to sniff and ordered him to seek. Quiet smoked absent-mindedly leaning to the truck’s door.

“When McDonell and DD are back I’ll book us a room.”

Quiet frowned. Her eyes looked obscured.

“Alright, two rooms.”

She frowned even deeper. Clicked her tongue.

“What’s wrong? You don’t wanna stay here?”

Quiet looked to his boots, then to his eyes for the first time since he picked her all bloody from the fender. Then slowly nodded.

In half an hour DD was back. Alone.

“Good dog,” Venom gave him a treat and patted his back. DD was jumpy, butting his shin and running around.

“I’ll go with him,” Venom told Quiet. Her eyes widened for a moment. “Don’t–” he cut himself on ‘talk to anyone’ “Just wait for us.”

David ran down the fire escape. The stars had no end. Eli shouted at him from devil knew how many stair flights below. Now they didn’t have time at all.

Miller opened his eyes but saw only darkness. He jolted but his body was heavy and unresponsive. His arm was numb, tied to something cold and hard. He breathed heavily, something got into his mouth. Plastic?

“Awake, Commander?”

The male voice that spoke to him was unfamiliar, sharp and nonchalant. Young. The honorifics choice limited the options, though. 

The bag was removed and harsh light hit his sensitive eyes. He squinted in absence of aviators, the blurry shape of a man came into focus.

The captor was in his late twenties at best. Blonde, tall, slender, wearing a red scarf. Miller looked down and saw a pair of cowboy boots. With spurs. Who even needed spurs anymore when horses had become extinct?

“You rubbed elbows with the wrong man,” the cowboy spoke, strolling in a circle. In his gloved hand sat an old fashioned revolver. Could that be–

“Revolver Ocelot?” Miller wheezed, not recognizing his own hoarse voice. Right, he’d been struck hard in the solar plexus. The motherfucker had better not steal all his blocks of cigarettes. Those cost a fortune.

“Bingo,” the man grinned from ear to ear. His eyes were narrow as of a sly cat. “Now tell me, where’s your new friend, Mr. Stunt Double, headed?”

Such an unpleasant character. Miller was glad he’d left Fox Hound before getting to know Big Boss’s new fair-haired boy.

“I know nothing,” he said, laidback. If the rumors were true, Ocelot wouldn’t let him get away with that. Miller was getting bored with extended foreplay.

And Ocelot didn’t keep him waiting. He stooped, picking something from a nearby cardboard box. Bent forward. There was a stinging prick at Miller’s neck.

“What now, Hell Master?”

His vision fogged. He kept silent. A dozen hard punches later Miller forgot how to breathe with his mouth, trying to get air straight into his lungs.

“I know nothing about his plans,” he repeated and spat the blood to the ground. Ocelot’s shit-eating smirk widened, almost making his face crack.

He leaned away, arms folded behind his back. The spurs chimed as he walked round, face up the ceiling. Perhaps he wore them just to annoy people.

“Snake told me everything about you,” muttered Ocelot. “Even how you moan around a dick in your mouth.”

Miller’s nails grazed his palm.

“Told me you were pretty good at accounting, too,” he went on. That motherfucking smirk. “Could you then count minutes till your death?”

Miller laughed. The boy was really something else.

He regretted it right the second Ocelot’s boot stomped on his face, smashing him, wrenching his nose, getting dirt into his eyes. He shoved the boot tip into his mouth, pushing deeper into his throat.

“Suck it like you sucked Boss’s cock,” sang Ocelot in amusement and pressed the sole to the root of Miller’s tongue. Vomit rolled up his throat, he couldn’t hold down, gagging, swallowing some puke and chocking on it. Ocelot jerked his foot away, glaring.

“Bastard, you got me dirty!”

A slap across his face. Weak. Miller grinned, feeling vomit drying on his chin.

“At least now we’ve got it settled who has no clue how deepthroating works. No wonder you’re here torturing me right now instead of sitting in Big Boss’s lap.”

Now he'd done it. Pissed off his captor. Ocelot’s features went sharp with hatred, he aimed the revolver to his forehead.

The door behind him banged open. Ocelot turned at the intruder; there was a gunshot, a thud as a lifeless body fell to the floor.

“Shit!” Ocelot exhaled and fled out, flinging up heels.

Miller attempted to wrestle out from the rope on his wrists but his muscles refused to cooperate. Totally was the work of what that sadist had injected him with.

He peered at the body. A large crimson puddle oozed from the naked chest – male. He couldn’t see the face hidden with a balaclava. A hunting knife was still firmly clasped in his fingers.

“Hey,” Miller called, hoping that last remains of the man’s life hadn’t dissolved.

The man gurgled. More blood leaked from his open mouth. No doubt his lungs were hit. He was a goner.

Hasty steps approached the door. Ocelot must’ve been back. Miller sighed, mentally accepting his death. He’d had, well, not a bad life. Once he adopted a mixed breed German shepherd and named him Cody. Cody had always waited for him at the door back in Alaska, before the First Strike. Then he died of radiation exposure.

David jumped into the storage room, too bright after all the stairs and a labyrinth of narrow corridors. In the corner of the room, tied to a pipe sat–

“Master Miller!”

He was beaten, bloody, dirty. Apparently not fully conscious, for he didn’t react instantly.

“...Dave?”

He’d grown so old. David rushed to him, his boot his something heavy, lenient. He glanced at the floor.

Eli lay there, blood oozing from his chest. A single shot wound gaped at his left.

David stooped, both paralyzed and agitated, lifted Eli onto his lap, removed the balaclava. For a short moment he had hoped it would reveal someone else. He slapped his cheek.

“Eli, wake up! Quit playing around!”

Miller watched them through misty layer in his eyes. How did he not recognize that brat at first? Was such a pain in the ass back in Miller’s commanding days. He’d matured, toughened. Miller felt his chest tightening at an ironic regret that he didn’t get to speak to Eli again. And Dave, so grown, a handsome young man; why did he have to see him first time in ten years mourning?

He was shaking. Eli coughed, spitting out more blood.

“Come on, get up, Eli! It’s not the time to take a nap!”

Tears edged in Dave’s voice. He rocked back and forth, pressing his brother’s head close to his chest. Miller swallowed.

“Brother,” Eli spoke, raspy. “It’s... cold... I’m tired... But don’t worry, I–”

“Don’t say that,” Dave rasped. Wiped his eyes with the back of his gloved hand. “Eli, you fuck... Don’t go!”

“It’s alright, Dave.” There was a hint of a smile on Eli’s lips. His face was calm. “I just want you to know... even though I’m superior... I’ve always looked up to you...” his voice hushed into whisper.

Dave didn’t let him go, holding him until the last breath escaped his chest.

Miller was exhausted. He was barely registering his surroundings, the reek of blood and gunpowder and own vomit was making his head spin. He lowered his eyelids.

“Master,” someone shook his shoulder. Dave.

“Master, I’ll get you out of here. I have a plan, just you wait. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Miller could only nod. They could talk later.

His body ached. Every cell screamed in pain, his right hand– He snapped his eyes open. There was smell of burning flesh, agonizing screams, swish of bullets, grenades exploding. His left leg–

He snapped his eyes open.

“McDonell, talk to me.”

The fog in front of him cleared. He found himself panting, tears gushing down his cheeks. And on both cheeks lay firm hands, one flesh and one bionic.

“Snake...”

Venom placed the glasses on Miller’s face and carefully untied him, hoisted him up his shoulders. Miller’s arms dangled in the air; he was like a heavy sack.

DD sniffed Liquid Snake’s body and whined. They needed to get out of here.

Quiet looked annoyed at first, then she saw Miller and there was a brand new emotion on her face. Concern. Venom motioned her to sit next to him and laid Miller on the rear seat, covering him with a blanket. DD snuggled close to him and licked his face.

They cut and ran through the night. As soon as the urban landscape once more morphed into barren dunes, Venom stopped the truck. He wiped Miller’s face and chest, found a relatively clean shirt for a change. He was shaking, badly.

“I shouldn’t have–” Miller started, nasal and sore. Venom put a finger to his lips, glided his hand to brush his hair away from his face.

Miller slept through the whole next day. Venom didn’t blast music. DD didn’t bark, not leaving his watch against him.

Then he woke up. He didn’t talk. Quiet kept giving him her cigarettes that she hadn’t touched. There weren’t many.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank all the people who have been supportive and patient, and also everyone who read chapter 1! Stay tuned, this fic has 7 chapters and is almost finished.


	2. Chapter 2

When dusk enveloped the desert with orange and purple hues, Venom wheeled away from the road. A neat crevice in a rock came in handy – they all were tired and hungry.

He cooked some broth with genetic carrots he’d won in poker in Nevada. Miller barely swallowed two spoonfuls. Venom broke a stale bun in half, handed one to him and the other to Quiet. She nodded in gratitude and passed it over to DD.

“Tastes like crap,” Miller commented in a dull, strained voice. Venom regarded him with a soft smile.

In the pitch black of the night, wind howled through the cracks in the rock. The campfire lit up Quiet’s face. She slept with DD curled in her arms.

Venom beckoned Miller to come out. They stood at the cave entrance; Miller leaned on the wall, staring into the starless sky.

“I’ve decided to stick with you for a little longer,” he finally said with a dry chuckle. 

Venom shuffled his feet. Their shoulders brushed. He said nothing. 

“Say, Snake, do you know the story about a man who wished to forever remain young?”

Venom raised a brow.

“No. What’s that, a fairy tale?”

Miller grinned. What was that about out-of-the-blue storytelling?

“Well, call it as you like. He was a young man, and had an outstanding beauty that allured everyone. Women, men. Once he got himself painted, and guess what?”

“Hm,” Venom stroked his beard. “The painting took his soul and he stayed young forever while it aged?”

“So you’ve heard of it.” Miller lit up a cigarette, took a long drag. The smoke flowed from his nostrils. “I’ve always thought, what if the fellow went nuts in the face of fear of losing his advances to his age? He could’ve hallucinated the whole thing. Perhaps there wasn’t even any painting, just his twisted mind making it up.”

Venom squatted, Miller followed suit. Their knees touched.

“If there was any mind,” Venom said quietly. “Not only the painting, but the handsome man himself might’ve never existed. _People_ made the story up, adorned a simple case of insanity with thrilling details. Made it into a legend.”

“Made a fake of nothing, you say.” Miller’s smoke moldered. He turned at Venom. The moonlight glinted with a blue flash across the glaze of his aviators.

“Do you remember who you were before you were made into _his_ double?”

Venom gave Miller a timid smile.

“Not really. No actual memories of my own, but my hands remember more than my brain.”

Miller exhaled sharply, stood up. Dusted off his pants. For a moment he looked like he wanted to add something, but waved his hand and disappeared into the cave.

They moved off with the break of dawn. The air was chill for once, sky enwrapped with low grey clouds. Quiet had swapped places back with Miller, and having regained his position, he made it his job to clean the panel and glove compartment.

“What do you need these for?” he snorted, examining a pair of rusty scissors. They didn’t even open fully. Miller dumped them into a packet in hope to barter them later. Empty cigarette cartons, a broken pencil, a decade since expired mint gum (which he shoved into his mouth before Snake would’ve asked to split it). He whistled at a worn Playboy and carefully opened the spread with Sherilynn Fenn. After staring at it for a couple minutes and biting his lip, he lovingly tucked it back. Gotta keep the treasure.

He heard revving behind them. How unusual on abandoned road. Venom glanced at the side-view mirror. They had been followed.

“Shit,” Snake hissed and revved it up. Miller jumped into the backseat; him, Quiet and DD froze, staring at a quickly impending armored car. Miller rummaged through their weaponry, Quiet was already loading a sniper rifle.

“It’s not gonna work from here.” He winced at her. Her everlasting frown deepened with a shade of mockery. As if saying ‘watch me’, she opened the rear window and positioned herself on one knee.

It was a clean shot indeed, only it embedded in the enemy’s bulletproof glass. Their pursuers were smarter than that. Would they have a trick against something more grand?

Miller felt a little nostalgic with the grenade pin clenched between his teeth.

“Get down!”

He hurled it with a strong sweep and covered his head with his arms. Thank god Snake wasn’t slowing the car down.

The explosion concussed his eardrums. Dust and sand blew inside, making both him and Quiet cough in severe fits. They couldn’t hear the engine anymore, and as dust settled he saw the car still intact, but stalled for good.

“We shook them off,” he sighed with relief and crawled back into his seat. Quiet scoffed, turning and placing her rifle at her feet.

Venom tried not to speed up too much. Gas wasn’t growing on trees. The air was stale, for a moment grave silence scratched his ears. And then metal clanked hard, the truck jolted under significant weight. He turned the wheel, the truck lurched. A whizz came in; a deadly sharp blade swished right in front of his nose.

Now they were up shit creek without a paddle.

“Shake it off!” Miller yelled, bustling in his seat. He reloaded a gun.

The blade withdrew in a flash, Venom wheeled in a zig-zag pattern. Behind them, the engine roar renewed with wicked clatter.

“Quiet, take down the car,” Venom ordered and saw her nodding to him in the mirror before she snatched the rifle and was back at aiming at the chaser.

The blade pierced the roof again, close enough to Miller’s ear to cut it off. He hissed; his cheekbone bled. He braced to pop out of the window. Venom caught his elbow and held it firmly, turning the wheel with one hand.

“Stay in,” he said in a low voice. “This blade is sharp enough to cut a man in half.”

“I can see that,” Miller snapped, shaking out of the hold. Venom gripped harder, drilling Miller’s eyes with his one. “You’ve got some other plan?”

With a barely-there grin, Venom nodded forward. The road had a swift turn right before a cliff.

“I was right,” Miller laughed. “You’re nuts.”

“Hang on!” Venom turned to Quiet and DD. The enemy car still was close enough to bump into their butt.

Venom dashed off the road, aiming for the cliff.

The tires got off the ground. For a split second they remained in limbo. Venom heard his own blood pumping in his ears.

The pit opened in his stomach as they fell down, down, down.

The touchdown was fierce; Venom’s head hit the roof with a dull bump. Strong buzz shook his skull, he saw a red flash, then blue.

The truck ground through the sand before tilting to the side. Miller caught the wheel, seeing Snake’s eye roll up. His head lolled back to the headrest, limp arms fell. Blood gushed from the ragged flesh surrounding the shrapnel.

Now that was extremely bad.

Miller steadied the truck and felt for the brakes. They halted in a cloud of sand. He glanced back; Quiet showed him a thumb up. A small bruise dehisced on the bridge of her nose. DD barked and dashed to Snake, sniffed him, licked his temple, his ear. The blood wasn’t stopping.

“Quiet, take care of him, I’ll go check on our guests.”

Hurrying, Miller shoved the gun down his belt, fished out two hunting knives from the glove compartment. All set to greet the guest.  

Outside, the dust still danced above the line of their route. The cliff was about ten meters high, the enemy car was nowhere in sight.

The bladed fiend, however, was.

Miller prowled up to a writhing body on the ground about five meters behind the truck. He spotted the sword three meters away from the fiend. It was fine unless he had something else on him (and he surely did, John wouldn’t send a rookie on a mission).

A leather suit and a poncho over it, shock-head of silver hair. He was young and looked nothing like John, Venom Snake or Dave.

Miller aimed at the guy’s face and lightly kicked his side. The guy groaned in pain, squinted his eyes open. Jesus Christ, he was barely in his twenties now that Miller looked closer.

“Hell... Master...” the kid wheezed, his voice lower than his juvenile appearance suggested.

“Got a death wish?”

He coughed, blood droplets on his pale mouth. Miller sighed.

“Did Big Boss send you to terminate us?”

The kid jolted with painful twists. Watery blue eyes stared at Miller, sparse brows knitting.

“But Big Boss... isn’t he... inside this truck?”

Miller lowered the gun. He should’ve figured sooner.

“You’ve got a fancy katana,” he squatted and reached his good hand out. The kid frowned but took it. “Self-taught, aren’t you?”

“Is he not Big Boss?” he repeated and sat up. Confusion made him look absolutely like a child. Miller hoped Snake wouldn’t want to take him in, for they’d already got a dog and a woman.

A break was necessary. Snake didn’t take serious physical damage, but the impact induced delirium and he kept floating between consciousness and sleep. Muttered some bullcrap nonsense like _La Li Lu Le Lo_. That hellish horn-like metal thing must’ve been in contact with his brain. Miller hoped only that it wouldn’t bring any long-term side effects.

They sat around a campfire, it was becoming cold and DD snuggled between him and Quiet. The kid (who had introduced himself as Raiden) sat opposite of them, chewing on a beef jerky that Quiet generously shared with him.

“I’ve heard nasty stories about Big Boss but I didn’t know he’d actually...” Raiden scowled, searching for the right words. “This is sick.”

“In the mad world, sick becomes normal,” Miller uttered. He positioned Snake’s head on his lap so it’d be easier to put stitches in – his scar had broken up a little. Snake clenched his teeth in semi-slumber, and DD hurried to lie down next to him. Snake’s flesh arm winded around the dog’s body and pulled him closer.

“Sorry, I couldn’t find any anesthetic,” Miller muttered. “It’s gonna hurt.”

“October ’74 Gazelle runs southwards,” Snake mumbled, and winced as the needle pierced his skin again. “Oh I don’t want to fall in love give me those nice yellow shoes.”

That Raiden kid turned out not to be at all hostile. Even offered them to stay at his home village. It was placed around an oil derrick – a blessing and a curse at once.

“The villagers are former military and headhunters,” Raiden spoke as they rode. Miller drove, Quiet and DD looked after Snake on the rear seat.

“And you?” Miller asked, biting into a cigarette. He barely could wipe away a grin from the thought that they’d get their hands on extra gas.

“I used to be a child soldier,” Raiden said rather sullenly. Despite the invitation he didn’t seem like an upbeat character.

“Not anymore, though,” he added, blushing a little. Miller raised an eyebrow at him. “It was some ten years ago when I was picked up and brought in Nova Moses. Didn’t know anything other than killing men and stealing to make a living. But there it all changed for good. Now it’s my duty to protect the village, so my skills come in handy.”

That was indeed an impressive skill for a young man, but Miller suspected all that katana brandishing and jumping around on a moving vehicle wasn’t something a child soldier would’ve learned. He wondered who’d taught Raiden that but didn’t press the subject.

The Nova Moses village was several dozen trucks and trailers joined in a circle. The derrick loomed up the sky like a macabre castle.

“To save you some trouble I’ll go tell the seniors that you’re no bad guys and that he’s not Big Boss,” Raiden said as Miller stopped the truck some meters away from the barricade.

Miller nodded. Raiden tapped his katana shaft and jumped out.

Minutes were passing like hours. Miller shifted in the seat, fingering a cigarette and reluctant to light it up. Quiet had only two packs left, and he wasn’t sure that the village could provide them with those.

He glanced back: Snake was sleeping, head on Quiet’s lap. There was a deep crease in his forehead, the corner of his mouth twitched. DD put a paw on Miller’s thigh, gazing at him with profound reassurance. Well, he had to know his owner better.

Two figures were advancing to the truck at a hurried pace. Miller straightened. Just in case, he tightened his fingers on the gun.

They stopped a few meters away.

“–believe me, don’t you?”

That was Raiden’s voice. Miller cocked his head, listening.

“Jack, don’t take it personal, but they might be dangerous,” a male voice spoke. Well, suspicion wasn’t unexpected. “The Sage says their minds are wicked.”

“But, Sam–”

“You heard me.”

Miller sighed and jumped from the truck. Gotta play one of the lads. Approaching the two, he beamed, arms in the air.

“Anyone might be dangerous in the desert, don’t you agree?” he said in his best friendly tone.

The man next to Raiden turned to him. He looked a few years older than Raiden, but darker, rather intimidating. A crooked grin broke on his face.

“Now then, aren’t you the infamous Hell Master?” The man folded his arms on his chest, stepping forward. He and Miller drew level, facing each other.

“Hell had to let me out,” Miller smirked and stretched his bionic hand out for a handshake. “Just Miller is fine.”

The man took his hand. Metal clanked against metal – he had a prosthesis himself.

“Sam. Jetstream Sam.”

And before Miller could blink, he was thrown over to the ground, a blade pressing to his throat. What a warm welcome.

“Sam!” Raiden ran up to him and pulled on his arm. “What the hell are you doing!”

“Get off, Jack,” Sam hissed. “You should’ve grounded them in the desert. You’ve been too unprofessional.”

“But Miller spared my life!”

“Maybe so, but Snake’s sprouts cannot be trusted.”

Although Sam’s account was reasonable, Miller had to admit, Raiden was fired up. With fair elegance, he unleashed his sword, standing by and aiming at his comrade. Miller’s brow rose.

“Cut it,” Sam chuckled, but there certainly was some sweat on his temples.

“If I lose we’ll ditch them,” Raiden spoke. “But if I win they’ll stay as long as needed and we provide them with all necessities.” 

With a deep sigh, Sam pulled away from Miller. Now that was amusing. Miller sat up, watching two men walking toward each other.

Swords glinted in the moonlight at the speed of sound. Sam was brilliant, fast and sly, every move flowing like water, zero effort, his jaunty grin never wiped away. Raiden compensated with brutality, every step unpredictable. He had that glint of madness in his eyes. Miller leaned on his arms, not at all worried about the outcome. His money was on the kid.  

It was like a dance, savage and fierce one. With an abrupt motion, the tip of Raiden’s katana grazed Sam’s cheek. He halted, easing.

“Fuck,” he lowered his sword and laughed. The cut was rather deep. “You won.”

But Raiden seemed to forget about the fight and the bet; he thrusted his sword into his sheath and leaned closer to Sam. He spoke in trembling whisper, and Miller glimpsed his thumb running over the cut.

So they settled in Nova Moses. It wasn’t surprising that the folks kept staring at them with unhidden antagonism; Big Boss’s face unnerved them more than anything. Hushed voices kept whispering, but Sam promised to silence them. He seemed to be one of the authorities.

They were given a modest accommodation in a tent, some genetically grown vegetables and even coffee beans. Miller shed a tear as the rich, thick flavor hit his tongue for the first time in nine years.

“We usually don’t make drinks with these,” said Sam, lifting Snake’s eyelid and pointing the flashlight to his eyeball.

“We use them as spice,” Raiden clarified. He was peeling potatoes with Quiet. A pot’s lid sang a savory tune.

At dinner Sam told them how he brought in Raiden when he still was a soldier.

“He was dirty like a devil and glared like he was going to murder me,” Sam chuckled. Raiden groaned by his side. Again that blush on his cheeks.

Miller had forgotten the last time he was so stuffed. He could barely move after a whole plate of mashed potatoes, corn and carrots. Quiet took a liking to raw potatoes, crunching with sheer enthusiasm. DD relished a beef jerky and licked Miller’s coffee cup clean.

When Sam fished out a pack of Marlboros from his jacket, Miller threw an arm around his shoulders and walked him out. Wasn’t a bad place to stay at all.

According to Sam who was no doctor but claimed to have some medical knowledge, Snake had suffered a concussion. He’d be fine in a couple of days but rest was compulsory now.

Miller kept waking up at night as some another chunk of absurdity was muttered close to his ear.

“All diamonds fade when hit the road Jack the sunsets are so pretty in Costa Rica,” he mumbled. Small hairs stood up on Miller’s nape.

In the morning he found Quiet and DD gone. Dressing on the way out, he dashed around the village, seeking for a glimpse of a poorly covered female frame or a large clot of grey fur.

“Miller!” Raiden beamed. He held a basket full of polished red apples in his arms.

“Morning, Raiden,” he said, eyeing the basket. His mouth watered. “Have you by any chance seen Quiet and DD today?”

Raiden placed the basket on the ground, looking around, pondering.

“DD is?”

“Our dog.” Miller paused. They couldn’t have gone too far, could they?  

Villagers were heading to a larger trailer, apparently a makeshift dining hall. Meaty scent permeated from the door. But no, it must’ve been some trick. Even so called beef jerky was mere textured soy protein.

Quiet leaned on a truck, savoring a cigarette. DD snuggled to her leg, tongue out, tail wagging. On the far end of the square she noticed Miller talking to Samurai Kid. That worrisome geezer, couldn’t use some rest for once.

She threw the spent smoke on the ground, heeled it, stretched her arms out. The sky was low, heavy clouds drawing out. DD whined and she smiled at him.

Something wound around her mouth, a strong shove pushed her around the corner. Quiet clenched the arm that was holding her, trying to break free.

“Calm down, bitch. Don’t move.”

She had a knife in her back pocket, but the attacker was pressing too tight. DD looked around and, noticing Miller, hurried to him. Well, damn.

A gloved hand with a knife hovered over her chest. The blade tore through the fabric of her scarf.

Just when Raiden was about to walk away, Miller noticed DD running up to him.

“There you are!” Miller smiled at the dog. Had DD always been so dark?

The dog sped up, baring its teeth. Miller blinked. Raiden caught his shoulders and pushed him back, turned to the dog, shielding him. But the dog was faster.

Miller’s head knocked the ground, hostile snarl reaching his ears. His pants were being shredded into pieces, good thing it was his artificial leg.

“Bad boy, Blade Wolf, bad boy! Get off him!”

Sam’s voice cut the air like a sword. The dog froze and released Miller with a low growl. He saw DD mincing forward, barking at it. Two dogs exchanged menacing glances. The darker one walked away.

“He’s a little too wild,” Sam muttered in apologizing tone. Gave Miller a hand. “He’s actually half wolf.”

“He goes rampant when she isn’t around, doesn’t he,” Raiden stooped to the glaring dog and pet its back. Rummaging in his pockets, Raiden fished out a treat, which Wolf licked off in a heartbeat. DD sniffed Miller’s destroyed pants.

Sam and Raiden joined them for breakfast: peeled apples with coffee. Miller melted of joy. Snake lay quiet beside him, lightly snoring. For once his sleep wasn’t interrupted.

Sam had brought some change of clothes, and Miller went behind an impromptu scroll to try them on. A well-worn leather jacket was a little too broad for him. Would look good on Snake, though. A scruffy beige sweater was a much better fit. Comfy at shape, a little scratchy against his skin.

He turned to get back and glimpsed Raiden leaning close to Sam’s ear, Sam’s arm wrapped around his neck. Miller waited half a minute more. DD ran up to him, pulled on his new cargo pants. Thankfully he was careful enough not to tear them.

There was noise outside. Raiden and Sam turned at the entrance, springing up on their feet. 

It was crowded as if the whole village came out to the noise. Sam and Raiden elbowed through the people, Miller pushed behind.

The crowd was circling a higher stack of crates. On top of them stood a man in a gasmask, a woman with long green hair in an unzipped jumpsuit, and someone with a sack on their head, tied with many ropes. Wait, that curved figure–

“What’s going on here?” Sam was the first to voice Miller’s thoughts. The man in the gasmask turned at him, his gaze cold and piercing through the lenses. Miller winced as cold shock pierced through his skull, reverberating with a tingling thud of unease.

“The intruder brought calamity upon our land of freedom,” came in an echoing, eerie voice. Miller felt shivers running down his spine. The voice was so clear as if located inside his head.

“People of Nova Moses,” the woman spoke in a deep voice. Blade Wolf sat by her feet. “Relying on trust, we allowed the outlanders into our community. But The Sage’s account proved we've let a snake into our home.”

She circled the tied figure and snatched the sack off. Quiet blinked and shook her head, her eyes met Miller’s. He hadn’t seen much emotion on her face before, but dread certainly wasn’t something he could picture on it. She looked vulnerable.

“However,” the woman continued. The crowd rustled in whispers. “The word of Sagest Psycho Mantis tells us that the true evil doesn’t lie in the ignorant minds of the strangers. It is the witch who is impure.”

She pointed a knife to Quiet’s chin, forcing her to look up. Miller stepped closer to the pseudo-scaffold.

“What the fuck do you mean? A witch? She’s just a talented sniper!”

The woman glared at him top-down. With spite in her knitting brows, she spit to the ground next to him.

“You aren’t the one to teach me on talented snipers, Hell Master,” she spoke. Stepped to Quiet, and with an abrupt motion cut the shirt on her chest. 

The skin between Quiet’s breasts was rife with abscessed blisters.  

Whispers ceased. Someone screamed, hasty steps followed. Panic rose. Miller turned at Raiden – he was clasping his mouth. Sam stepped back, eyes wide.

People ran. Miller caught Sam’s arm – he was about to retreat, too.

“What the hell is that?” Miller yelled through the roars. Sam shook his head, pushed Raiden away.

“Get out,” he mouthed, eyes blank.

A gun cocked next to Miller’s head. He saw Quiet gazing into the distance with remorse twisting her features.

A single shot to the air silenced the stampede.

Among the frozen villagers, a shadow rose. A metallic shine broke out, towering over them in the parting clouds. People came apart.

Venom Snake walked to the scaffold, shotgun in his bionic hand, knife in the good one.

Followed by everyone’s glances, he stepped onto the crates. His shoulders bulged in immensity.

“Psycho Mantis,” he turned at the man in the gasmask. “I don’t know your end game, but misinforming your own people like this is nothing short of cruel.”

He had the crowd’s attention. There was no effort in any movement or word. Venom Snake oozed charisma.

“I am a former health worker,” he spoke, eyeing the crowd. Calm, vast. “I had to save this woman’s life once. I’ve checked her thoroughly. What you can see is a mere chronic skin disorder caused by radiation exposure.”

The crowd breathed. Snake turned to Mantis who was gazing through his mask with dull eyes. Venom walked up to Quiet. Placed the dagger in his bionic hand with the gun. Outstretched his arm. His flesh palm lay flat on Quiet’s chest, fingertips against the blisters. His hand twitched and slid off, revealing clear, pale skin. Someone gasped in the crowd. The word _miracle_ rolled out of people’s mouths.  

“I get your apprehensions, your wariness. Contagions are to be feared indeed, any of them might commence a new plague. We tend to dread the unknown, it’s our nature. Death is still a grand enigma, and will forever remain one. But not everything is what it looks like.”

An applause sounded. Then more followed, yells and rumble, blades clanking.

Snake measured his audience with a tranquil eye. Cut the rope. Quiet fell on her knees by him. Her mouth twisted, eyes wide as she pressed shaky palms to her chest.

“In our grim age, we ought not doubt comrades,” he said and threw both weapons to the ground. “It’s the only way to survive.”

People hollered. All chanted Snake’s name. A man took Quiet’s hand and kissed her knuckles. Miller felt a hold on his shoulder: Sam stood with a scowl.

“Forgive me, brother,” he whispered, his arms locking on Miller’s back. “We should all be ashamed.”

The scaffold became a pedestal. Many hugged Snake. A line formed to kiss Quiet’s hand, and she sat on a crate at Snake’s feet like Mary Magdalene. The woman with green hair was in the line, too.

Nobody noticed when Psycho Mantis left.

That night the whole village was at the grand campfire. Hell knew where from they got canned beer but Miller didn’t care, savoring yet another long forgotten taste.

Snake walked Sam and Raiden aside, whispering to them. Women had washed and combed Quiet’s hair, gave her a light floor skimming dress. She looked like a sheepish nymph.  

Miller splashed a little beer into DD’s bowl. The dog eyed him, quite dubious, but still licked at it a bit. Not a bad drinking buddy.

He was tipsy enough when Snake finally squatted next to him and popped a can.

“So, Mr. Great Illusionist,” Miller leaned back, eyeing Snake’s profile. His horn seemed to have grown longer. “Tell me what magic trick you used.”

Snake took a sip. His eyelid lowered as he smacked his lips.

“No tricks.”

Simple as that. Miller laughed. Opened another can. Leaned closer to Snake’s ear, grasping his shoulder. It didn’t seem to have much strength in muscle. He hadn’t fully recovered.

“Exposure comes with perks,” Snake muttered. A small smile played on his mouth. “I assume to Psycho Mantis it gave peripheral neuropathy that resulted in ability to transmit and receive information without using sensory channels.”

“Mind reading?” Miller frowned. That grind through his brain. Suddenly he felt uncomfortable. Hadn’t he envisioned the Playboy spread a bit too vividly last night? Snake nodded.

“If you will. Have you once wondered how Quiet could chase us at 55 mph?”

Miller swallowed. Years of serving silent customers in the wasteland had robbed him of possessing information, which he used to be so keen on, and only now did he feel the gaping loss.

“But don’t think of it as of a gift,” Snake added, sullen. He placed the can in the sand. DD leaned his nose to his knee. “I’ve seen people going insane. Sometimes the price is too high.”

“What’s your price?”

Venom paid him a long glance. His mouth was a thin line, all creases in his skin hardened. Sadness floated in his bleak eye. Miller stood up, begrudging his curiosity.  

Leaving Snake to his brooding, Miller walked around the people dancing around the fire, elbows linked, smiles flickering through the flames. He sought Raiden or Sam, or both, in the joyful crowd, but they weren’t there. Miller sighed.

A pair of electric eyes caught his attention. He smiled. For the first time he saw Quiet smiling back, genuinely. She turned at the girl she was dancing with, her hair flipped, and she ran up to him with airy steps. She must’ve been a little bit tipsy, for she clasped his shoulders and planted a kiss on his cheek.

“Wow, now that’s a–” he started and froze. Her lips moved, and through the jolly chanting he heard a throaty, just barely there whisper.

“Thank you,” Quiet said.  

And as a flash, she rejoined her new friends, locking hands with them, laughing. Miller touched his cheek that still tingled with a warm, sheer sensation of youthful heart's ease. Life it was.

The party died out late and they got back into the chill tent. Silence pressed to his ears like an invisible hammer. He couldn't sleep, thinking of Catherine who could have been Quiet’s age now. Of Nadine, whose last words on their parting in California were _I hope I’ll never see you again, asshole!_ A prophecy come true.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains explicit sexual content

Venom got enough sleep to drive again, although the villagers insisted that they stay some more. There wasn’t time for that, he assured them with a smile. They didn’t argue.

Stocked with gas, water, ammo, clothes, food and even cigarettes to satiety, they were headed to Maze York. Venom had changed into Sam’s leather jacket – couldn’t accept such a nice one for free, so he’d bartered it for his old vest. Quiet had got a jumpsuit from Sniper Wolf, the woman who’d almost executed her. That one was a sincere apology. Quiet seemed to enjoy the adjustable cleavage.

Miller emitted a heavy brooding aura along with cigarette smoke. Venom had lowered the volume of a cassette Raiden gave him – industrial noises he wasn't the biggest fan of. Tried to keep Miller’s mind busy with trivia. He only huffed absentmindedly in reply.

“How’s your stomach?” Venom asked after another long pause.

“Better,” Miller grumbled. DD clambered on his lap, staring at him demandingly.

They stopped at dusk, purple and orange rays reflecting in the mirrors, sands motionless in upcoming slumber. Venom took a piss next to a cacti. He found Miller asleep in his seat with his prosthetic arm curled uncomfortably around his head, and covered him with a blanket.

On top of a dune, the sunlight gleamed on a rifle stock. Quiet narrowed her eyes and snatched her rifle, aiming just a bit below. If those golden locks breaking loose from a biker helmet belonged to the certain mischievous blonde, the showdown was no match for her. A warning would be fair.

Eva barely managed to crouch as the sand kicked up by the shot flew into her eyes. She rolled on her back and slid lower, out of enemy’s sight. Her hands trembled.

“Well, that was useless,” Ocelot snorted, dropping his face into a gloved hand. He leaned away from the bike but didn’t move closer to her.

“Tihij spotted me.” She glanced back at the truck. It took off, advancing to the horizon line, and not before long dispersed in the bronze haze.

Ocelot walked up to her, grabbed and tugged on the goggles that were hanging around her neck. His repugnant scowl morphed into a grimace of acid sarcasm.

“We were beaten by two disabled men, a mute girl and a dog; is that what you’re going to report to _him_? We can’t let them get to Maze York.”

Eva slapped his hand off, tsking. Ocelot was unbearable more often than not. Too young and cocky to comprehend that impossible goals required hard work and patience.

“Underestimating your opponent is a major mistake of a rookie,” she said with a playful smile and approached her bike. “And you aren’t supposed to be one, Major.”

“That's some pretty worthless advice coming from an enemy sympathizer,” he scoffed. Eva saddled up and he followed, keeping the distance between her back and his front.

Eva lowered the helmet’s face shield and gripped the handlebar. The sunset painted the desert in a lonesome peach hue. Just the same shade that sky used to be above her and Snake on happier days.

“Doesn't make _me_ a sympathizer given that Venom Snake treated me better than John ever did.”

And she started off at the speed of the free bird that she’d never been, chasing after the shattered dreams in a void land of sand and death.

If Ocelot was good at anything, it was keeping her mind busy with his aggravating remarks.

“Boss doesn’t treat well, he treats right,” he yelled against the blowing air. Eva laughed.

“Well put, kid!”

He shouted something about how he’d going to kill her if she kept calling him kid. She didn’t mind.

In a few hours a sandstorm broke in. They had to spend a night in the middle of nowhere, having set up a tent in hectic haste.

With a sigh of relief, Eva freed her chest from the tight leather jacket. She missed the days when she could run around in a bikini.

Ocelot turned away with defiant scorn. Eva could bet that not many people could boast about seeing the infamous Sadist Major blushing so profusely.

Wind howled outside. She was so _bored_. Took a beef jerky and put it back – they’d only have three bites left if she ate it. Eva stretched, butting her head into a scratchy pillow.

“Major,” she said with a grin. “How do you feel about a quickie?”

Ocelot’s ears, the only bit of his skin she could see, blazed scarlet.

“Stop this _nonsense_ ,” he mumbled, almost stuttering. “We’re on mission.”

“We’re in a fucking _tent_ without a single soul around for miles, and I’m bored to death.”

She sat up on her knees and shifted closer. Her hands lay on Ocelot’s shoulders. He was tense but didn’t flinch. Perhaps monogamous testaments hadn’t been blasted out of his mind with the Strike.

“Just relax, Adam,” she murmured to his ear and brushed it with her lips. It was hot. Eva slid across the blankets to face him. He looked pretty with those sheepishly lowered eyelashes.

“Don’t do that,” he said in a weak voice.

She smiled and embraced his neck, fingers slipping underneath his scarf. She found his mouth with hers, nibbling his lips, opening his lips with her tongue, kissing him sweetly. Ocelot was wooden, arms at sides. She snuggled closer to him; he smelled not as dirty as the other men these days. Still cared about hygiene. Very gently, she pressed her knee between his legs. He was limp.

His gloved hand rested on her forearm as she parted away.

“Sorry, I–”

“So the rumors are true.” Eva smiled. Ocelot avoided her eyes, lip twitching, brows twisting. She hoped he wasn’t going to cry, as if rejection wasn’t enough. He wiped his forehead. Cleared his throat.

“You love him, you should understand,” he muttered and glanced up at her. Such a tender gaze, that was new. She tossed his hair and pecked his cheek.

“Tell me more.”

Eva lay down the sheets, unbuttoning her pants, sliding them down. Ocelot did peek, cats were curious creatures after all.

“Tell you what?” he chuckled nervously, his back still to her.

“How he touches you. What he does to you.”

She let her hands slide between her breasts, flaring up the skin. Even though the Major didn’t kiss her back, she’d been way too aroused to let it go.

Ocelot sighed.

“Alright,” he uttered as if locking a pact. Stoic. Eva let out a soft laugh, caressing her breasts.

“I’ll tell you about our first time,” he started, voice dreamy. Now that was nice. “It took me just a few days to be head over heels about him.”

“Predictable,” Eva breathed out. She was becoming impatient.

“Don’t interrupt me,” he scoffed. “He kissed me like a beast and I was losing my mind. Straddled me, pinned, all the good stuff. I didn’t notice when he started to fondle me, rather forcefully, but that was even better. John is always rough, and I like it rough.” He paused. Eva listened. “First he told me to get on my knees, which I did. I remember his–” a sharp inhale “his massive hard cock slapping against my cheek and lips. He told me to look him in the eye while I sucked him off. That alone made me almost come in my pants, and then he fucked my face with that brutal force I thought I’d– oh, do you want me to omit the gross parts?”

Eva’s fingers glided up her inner thighs. She laughed.

“Of course not, silly. Bring it all.”

Ocelot chuckled. He was becoming excited.

“He fucked my mouth to hard I swear to god I thought I’d throw up. Right on his huge cock. But the moment when I was about to reach the point of no return, he withdrew and came all over my face, his semen got on my hair and clothes. Fuck, how much I loved that. He called me a slut and grinned. You know that grin he does, don’t you.”

“Yeah,” Eva bit her lip, rubbing against the moistening fabric of her panties. “Such an attractive grin.”

“That’s exactly what I thought,” he said, a little throaty. “Then when I was sure it was over, he grabbed me and flipped me over. Swished my pants down like it was nothing, and I almost yelled when he buried his face in... in my ass.”

“He does that well,” Eva commented, shifting the fabric to the side. She was oozing wet, craving a fat long dick all the way up inside her, but Ocelot’s excitement was almost as good.

“What he did with his tongue was out of my comprehension,” Ocelot continued, his voice trembling a little. “I remember that I cried. For real.”

“You’re kidding,” Eva chuckled, building up the pace of her fingers.

“Believe me or not, I did. He fingered me, I don’t even know with how many fingers. But it was... intense. Right when I was about to come – he hadn’t even touched my dick, that asshole – he pulled out and ordered me to get on all four. I say ordered and it was exactly that, he said that in such a savage tone I knew that a no could bring me to death.”

“That one is good too,” Eva uttered under her breath. Her head lolled to the side and she saw Ocelot sitting with his face to her now, observing her and licking his lips. His pants tented over his crotch. Their eyes met and Ocelot cast his gaze down, cheeks burning red.

“It’s okay, you can watch if you want,” Eva said soothingly, spreading her legs wider for him to see. “Continue.”

Ocelot swallowed.

“Okay. Okay... So I braced up as he slammed his dick into my ass – slammed, I’m not exaggerating, thank god he rimmed me beforehand but it still hurt like fuck. I thought he’d tear me apart with his cock, it was... giant, and I barely could stand still as he fucked me. Fast and deep, just like that. But then the best part comes in. He pressed onto my back, squeezing me, thrusting like mad, and started to whisper filth to my ear. Told me that I had... a sweet ass, a perfect ass to take cock, called me worst names, a cocksucker, a whore, a cumdump and whatnot. Even worse was that I was getting off on that, his voice alone was reeling me up the wall, and his cock– _oh_ his cock was _so good_.”

Eva bit down a moan, sliding her fingers in and out her pussy. She looked up: Ocelot, fully dressed, gloves on, jerked off as he spoke, gazing at her, lips slightly parted. The deep flush on his face was adorable. No wonder John took a liking to him.

“But then it was even better, and by better I mean worse,” he said huskily, pumping his cock faster. “He wound his arm around my neck, gripped it, strangled me. I could barely breathe and it was fucking _amazing_. He fucked me into the ground, there was so much sweat and I couldn’t breathe and I– _loved_ – it. I loved him, I called him _my boss_ and asked him to make me dirty, to come inside me cause I was a cumdump only for him. And then– he reached around for my cock and–”

And Ocelot came, moaning past his own words, shaking, his face twisting in the cutest grimace of bliss. Eva arched in the sheets, watching to the last bit and thrusting her fingers up, feeling a cold drop landing on her thigh. John had never been sweet, he was tough and large and thorough, raw and immense, she still remembered their first time when–

Her toes curved as orgasm drummed through her body. Her mind went blackout. She was numb for good several moments, and then her skin prickled with shivers. Every muscle ached, arms and legs limp. She let her head fall to the side, bumping into Ocelot’s shoulder.

He was fast asleep, she didn’t even notice the moment he’d dropped down beside her. A cigarette would be so nice right now, but the wind still carried the sand, whooshing.

Eva stretched out her arm and wrapped it around Ocelot’s shoulders, pulling him closer. He curled against her in his sleep, hands balling on her chest. Like a fine cat.

John didn’t deserve such a sweet guy.

The next morning, Miller blinked his eyes open and saw blurry white light. The storm died out. Sand was everywhere, even in his mouth and nostrils. Miller regretted that they hadn’t camped between the rocks when they had a chance. A night in a truck had given him a severe backache, didn’t help that Snake had been leaning on his shoulder and snoring to his ear.

He wanted to brush his teeth, badly. But he was propping up their exhausted driver. And his mouth smelled just as bad. Miller smiled to himself, watching the bleak sun rising through the clouds of dust.

Venom woke up, groaning. Again he’d dreamed about that metallic strut in flames. He stirred, his neck had gone sore but his face was resting comfortably against Miller’s bicep.

“Awake, Captain?” He smiled. Venom shook his head, drowsy. They could use some coffee from Nova Moses.

After a modest breakfast they took on fuel and drove on. The sky was sullen. It hadn’t rained in three months. Now maybe it finally was the time.

Miller scratched his chin. Short stubble had grown on it, framing his jaw like rust. He caught Venom’s gaze, sighing.

“Frankly, I’d kill a man for a shower,” he said with a bitter frown, his metallic hand crawling under his armpit. Quiet chuckled from behind. Miller turned to her, glaring.

“What? You’re the only one who doesn’t stink here,” he snapped.

“Stinky Master,” Quiet wheezed and burst out laughing. Furious, Miller flitted and grabbed her in a blocking hold, wringing her arms, which she could easily shake off but she allowed him that, making amused noise. DD put his paws on Miller, there was idle fighting and more laughter, now from both. Venom smiled at the rear view mirror. Quiet’s face was red, hair messy and puffed, she was slapping Miller’s arm wrapped around her neck.

“I’ll rub my stink off you and then we’ll see who’ll be talking!”

Venom sniffed at his scarf. Truth be told, he smelled atrocious. It was a no-go to use potable water for something as luxurious as washing. They needed to find a pond.

So Venom changed the route in search of a suitable place. It took them several hours to run into a small spring between the rocks. Quiet and DD stayed in the truck, Venom and Miller set out, taking guns and some clothes to wash.

Despite a small waterfall, the water was yellowish, but that was the best offer. Venom spread his washed shirt on a rock and unzipped his jacket. Miller was undressing at the speed of light. He took off his aviators and gently placed them on top of a pile of clothes.

Chills ran across his skin as he dipped his feet into the water. He looked up at Miller, who walked in knee deep. He stopped beneath the waterfall and tugged on his hair tie, his hair cascaded down his shoulders. Even caked with dust and sand, with occasional grey streaks it looked golden. Water ran down his face; he raised his arms, massaging his head. The muscle in his back flexed quite nicely. Venom slowly walked up to him.

Miller was desperate to finish before unnecessary memories kicked in. They were about the original, after all, but it was hard not to associate. Good thing that the water was icy.

Snake stopped by his side, his only eye fixed on him. Miller peeked. His memory was vague, but Venom Snake’s build seemed to differ from Big Boss’s. He was more hairy, larger, not as broad. And his–

Miller gaped, noticing abscessed blisters that peppered his inner thigh.

“So, that’s your price,” he exhaled. Looked up into Venom’s face. There was a grim line in his forehead. His eye was lighter than John’s, too.

“It’s not contagious, don’t worry,” Snake muttered.

Miller turned to face him. All those uncanny differences to which he’d paid attention annoyed him, but more importantly, made him blind to the biggest contrast.

“Snake, I–”

Miller reached his good hand out, hovering above his cheek. Snake gazed him in the eye. And then, his eyelid clenched; he let out a groan, staggering forward. Alert, Miller caught him. He was heavy.

“Watch... out,” Snake uttered, raspy.

Miller raised his hand from Snake’s back, it was covered in blood. He hadn’t heard the gunshot.

“Hold on,” he said, agitated, scanning the rocks. Something rustled in the grass above. “Shit, I gotta get the gun.”

“You’ll be in full sight,” Snake said, gripping onto his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, this leg prosthesis might be old but it’s good,” Miller assured and gently lowered him into the water. Venom leaned against the moss, panting. Miller was afraid to ask the obvious question.

He sprinted to the shore, fetched the gun. The sun slashed his eyes but he kept them wide open. Tears fogged his vision, he blinked them off, aiming at the top of the waterfall.

He glimpsed a blond blur in the bushes. The glint of a gun, of course muzzle suppressor on. Miller braced up, stark naked in sight of the enemy, aiming to shoot with watery eyes.

A blast roared through the still air.

The fair spot disappeared. Very distantly Miller felt his good leg going numb. He glanced down and chuckled. Numbness dispersed, sharp pain kicking in. Holding down pained moans, he stooped and tore a piece of his drying old shirt – luck would have it he'd washed it before going in – and messily wrapped up the wound.

There wasn’t any hint of the enemy anymore. He plunged back into water, cringing as it seeped through the fabric and touched his raw wound.

Snake was conscious, thankfully. The shot didn’t seem as bad now, placed far from vital organ areas. Miller winded Snake’s arm around his shoulders and got him up on his feet.

“You’re bleeding,” Snake said. His eye squinted with notable concern. “You shouldn’t have gone into the water.”

“I’ll be fine,” Miller pulled him on, walking. Red was spreading in the water.

“You’ll get in trouble if we don’t disinfect it soon.”

Miller let out a dry laugh. Snake was shot himself and much worse, and yet he had time to care about such minor things. This man was unbearable.

Having put pants on – Miller helped Snake, holding him upright – they returned to the truck. Seeing them, Quiet jumped out, winding her arm around Snake from the other side. She helped to put him on the rear seat. DD whined and lapped at his leg.

“Can you drive?” Miller turned at Quiet, having thrown their clothes in. She nodded and rushed to the wheel.

Too bad he wasn’t a professional and knew only basic first aid. Never thought it’d be useful in a burger joint. Miller narrowed his eyes, wringing the bullet out of Snake’s flesh with pincers. Snake muffled a groan.

“Bear with it a little, Doc,” Miller squeezed his shoulder, patting the oozing wound with damp bandage.

“Hurry up,” he said in a low voice. “I have to treat yours.”

He put on some rough stitches that would make a nice addition to Snake’s vast collection of scars. Fixed a bandage, helped Snake to put on a fresh shirt. Finished, Miller rubbed his hands and wiped his forehead.

Snake was so much better at that. He extracted the bulled from Miller’s shin with minimal pain. Miller gripped onto the headrest, watching his concentrated face. He’d only now noticed that the corners of his mouth turned down whenever he was focused.

“The bone isn’t affected, you’re lucky,” Snake commented without tearing his eyes from the wound. Very neatly he washed it with hydrogen peroxide. Miller sucked in air.

“I’m lucky to have met a medic in a wasteland,” he attempted to chuckle and gasped as cloth touched raw skin.

“Frankly, I never thought you’d stay with me on your own volition.”

Their eyes met, peering at each other for a moment. Miller was the first to look away.

“Me neither,” he muttered, staring on the road. The landscape had changed into sands again, pristine dunes bathed in regal bronze. The sky was azure and high, not a single cloud; it stretched like an endless canvas above them.

Quiet drove well enough for Venom to accept his position as a passenger and doze off. When he drifted out of slumber, Miller was sleeping with his head propped on his arm. All creases on his face smoothened, he looked... serene. Venom smiled and felt for a blanket, pulling it over them.

A memory he knew he didn’t own surfaced on his mind: young Miller snuggling to him in a tent. It was hot, he could hear distant waves lapping. Miller yawned and stretched, then pulled him into a hug. Then kissed him. They laughed, rolling on the floor, Miller complaining about the heat. Said they needed to get rid of the clothes if they didn’t want to get a heat stroke. A playful smirk on his lips. Venom tucked a wayward strand of golden hair behind his ear.

“Sure, Kaz.”

Miller stirred by his side, coughed, but didn’t wake up. A frown settled on the bridge of his nose, making him look his age again. Venom’s head went light with unnerving buzz and he closed his eye. Unease and warmth both spread in his chest, neither settling.

Quiet turned on one of many Snake’s tapes to keep vigil. The wind was blowing sand into the cabin, heat slowly abating among the dunes. The sunrays permeated through the windows, highlighting every fleck of dust dancing in the air.

DD put his paws on her thigh, whining. Quiet smiled at him, petting his fur. Gleeful electric guitar came on the speakers. Rustling sounded from behind, she glanced at the rear view mirror.

Miller wagged his head to the rhythm, Snake tapped on the headrest with bionic finger.

“Turn it up!” Miller asked with a grin. Quiet nodded, slamming the volume button.

The lyrics came in, and so did Miller’s voice.

“ _This magic moment_

_So different, and so new_

_Was like any other_

_Until I met you._ ”

His singing voice was awful. He abused his cords too much and apparently had zero pitch. Sang on top of his lungs. But _how_ he did sing.

Quiet couldn’t help but smirk at him in the mirror. She started humming along; it was still too painful to speak up.

Then another voice joined in. Snake’s.

“ _Sweeter than wine_

_Softer than a summer's night_

_Everything I want, I have_

_Whenever I hold you tight._ ”

He sounded quiet at first, timid almost. He shook his head, laughing. Miller laughed, too. With an abrupt motion, he leaned closer to Snake and caught his hand, cupping his shoulder as if in a dance. They grinned, yelling into each other’s faces:  

“ _So why won't you dance with me_

_Hey babe_

_Why won't you dance with me?_ ”

They did _dance_ , as much as sitting up and turning only as much as the room allowed could be called dancing. Both looked ridiculously pleased, trying not to laugh between the lines. Miller did a worse job in this, ravishing his thick baritone. Snake maintained a straight face but it clearly cost him all his willpower.

“ _And then it happened_

_You took me by surprise_

_I knew that you felt it too_

_I could see it by the look in your eyes._ ”

DD jumped on them, wanting to take part too. They split apart, breaking down and bursting into laughter, barely catching on the lyrics. Tears of joy gushed on Quiet’s face and she blinked them off to keep an eye on the road.

“ _So please, baby_

_So please_

_Save the last dance for me._ ”

Subdued, Miller drawled out the last words. He breathed hard, peered at Snake’s face. They smiled at each other.

Quiet was glad she ended up following these two peculiar old men. Might’ve been the best decision in her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Kaz and Venom sing is This Magic Moment by Lou Reed


	4. Chapter 4

It took them one more day to reach Maze York due to the detour. The city sign had human skulls adorning it. Miller’s eyes widened at the high-rise buildings cutting through the horizon. They looked haunted – glass dusted, metal rusty and corroded – but still somehow intact. Most fascinating was to see the lights. So many of them.

His head spun as they disembarked in the street. There were shops, cafes, actual _people_ loitering around. Quite overwhelming after all these years of hermitage. Miller stuck to Snake's back. Quiet ran off with DD to what smelled like a bakery. The scent was way too natural for it to be just another soy substrate.

“You alright?” Snake turned to him with that soft glint of concern in his eye.

“Yeah,” Miller rolled his shoulders, pocketed his hands not knowing where else to put them. “It’s just a little too much at once.”

A small smile emerged on Snake’s face.

“Maze York is one of the few cities that managed to set the production of carbureted hydrogen going, more commonly known as methane,” he explained and fished out a small black piece from his pocket. Miller narrowed his eyes. “These lands are rich in oil and gas, which allowed the city to prosper even in this grim state of the world.”

Miller whistled.

“An outer heaven, no more and no less,” he commented, peering at the dark skyscrapers that loomed above their heads. 

Snake made a firm nod.

“It’s the nicest place around to settle, but migration is tight.” He pressed a button on the transmitter. “Those who come here are only granted to stay for two weeks without permission from–”

“This is Pequod!” The device spoke with grainy noise. “M.Y. Station 66, do you copy?”

Miller peered at Snake, who brought the custom radio to his mouth.

“Punished Snake speaking,” he uttered with a smile. “On station, M.Y. 45.”

“Boss!” The voice boomed excitedly through the speaker. “Welcome to Maze York!” Indistinct chatter and shouting came on in the background.

“Now, now. Meet me on the rooftop of RF Center. I think we’ll get there in a couple hours.”

“Rodger that! Glad to have you back, Boss!”

The radio went on dial tone. Snake’s face was radiating joy.

“We’re meeting friends,” he said, squeezing Miller’s shoulder. “And after that, we have some business to attend to. Take as many guns and ammo as you can carry.”

Miller patted his arm and dashed to the truck. Now that was exciting.

At the entrance to the city, Eva killed the engine and pulled her helmet off. Ocelot coughed, shaking severely against her chest.

“Hang on,” she stroked his hair, trying to soothe the pain. She hadn’t been sure he would make it with a gunshot wound this bad. The bullet was stuck too deep in his shoulder and she didn’t have a proper equipment to extract it. He’d become much paler, black circles below his eyes, gaze unfocused.

“Leave me here,” he mouthed, grasping the goggles hanging around her neck.

“Don’t speak, silly,” she hushed, trying to sound annoyed. She couldn’t. “I’m not leaving you anywhere. You’ll get to see John again.”

Ocelot grunted, shifting in attempt to sit upright. His face writhed in pain.

“I’ve failed the mission,” he wheezed, clasping Eva’s shoulder. He pressed his hand to his chest, shoulders slouching. His eyes shot up at her, savage desperation edging in them. “You know what he’s gonna do.”

Eva pulled him in a tight hug. Tears welled in her eyes but she blinked them away.

“Don’t worry, kid,” she whispered to his ear with resolution. “I’ll get you to the doctor, and then I’ll take Venom Snake’s head. It’s gonna be alright.”

Ocelot pressed his forehead into the crook of her neck. His body relaxed into hers, limp arms winding around her middle.

They sat on the bike silently, holding each other. Crows whirled above their heads in the leaden sky, and far out Maze York glared at them with its hollow eyes.

In the heart of the city, rocked by the wind, Snake, Miller and Quiet with DD holstered to her like a baby were climbing the RF Center. As Snake had explained, only so much electricity could be running continuously, and such things as elevators were available only in a few buildings.

“The State Palace has one,” Snake yelled to him from above. It was a good thing he talked. That distracted Miller from a masochistic urge to glance down. He tried not to think where to place his feet and how strong he held onto the harness. He focused on the view in front of him. Snake’s pants were tight enough to provide a nice one.

“Is there a government if it’s called a ‘state’ palace?” Miller yelled back.

“No, but there’s a president,” Snake shouted. The gust was making him sound like a distant echo. A metallic gnash went off nearby; Miller squeezed his eyes shut – a hollow pit opened in his stomach and he sucked in a breath. Wasn’t a good idea. So he kept his gaze fixed on Snake’s ass.

The sun was grazing the horizon through the smoked clouds as Snake was the first to lurk onto the roof. He reached his arm out to help Miller up; he braced and clambered on the surface. He breathed, propping his shaky hands to steady ground. Quiet jumped up with easy grace and put DD down.

“Boss!”

Hasty steps and a dozen voices rushed to their direction. Before Miller could blink, a sizeable crowd enclosed Snake, all chattering and exclaiming. Some hugged Snake, some patted his back, arms – whenever they could reach. Miller got up, skimming the odd gang. They mostly were men in modified army uniform, very worn and bizarre with random belts and small canvas bags all over; some wore balaclavas. Miller huddled uncomfortably. Women were present, too; he noted how a couple of them, one blonde and one brunette, wore relatively white lab coats. The circle came a little apart, some approached Quiet, some pet DD. A red-haired girl in a tank top and army pants gazed at Miller with curiosity but was hesitant to approach him. The man to whom Snake currently was speaking was wearing a helmet with a small round emblem. Miller narrowed his eyes. His limbs went numb.

“I brought Hell Master,” announced Snake, gesturing to him. All eyes were on him, some gazing with suspicion.

“I order you to pay him as much respect as you pay me,” Snake added, and at the command the people eased. Their trust was almost eerie. “McDonell Miller, welcome to Diamond Dogs.”

Snake spread his arms wide. The people slowly mobbed Miller, before he knew it they shook his hand, said their names with addition of ‘At your service’. The redhead was named Meryl and had a faded Fox Hound tattoo on her shoulder.

“You trained Solid Snake, didn’t you?” she asked in a hushed tone.

“Yeah, why do you ask?”

“He trained me,” Meryl said. A wistful smile played on her lips. “But that’s history. I’ll never return to Big Boss’s lair.”

The brunette and the blonde in lab coats identified themselves as Naomi and Nastasha respectively. Nastasha wouldn’t stop smoking and laughing in a low, throaty voice. It was almost charming.

“Never thought that the infamous Hell Master would appear to be so cute,” she chuckled. Naomi frowned in contrast, nudging her in reminder of Snake’s words about respect. 

“Oh?” Miller grinned, bringing a lighter to yet another cigarette of hers. “And how do the rumors describe me? A bloodthirsty demon?’

“Pretty much.” She flicked a smile.

“It doesn’t matter,” Naomi interrupted. “I firmly believe that anyone can atone for their sins. Everyone chooses how to live their own life.”

Miller nodded, pensive.

One of the last to approach him was the man in the pilot helmet.

“Pequod, at your service, sir!” he saluted.

The label on the helmet was the skull on yellow and black background. Miller took a deep breath.

“Tell me, Pequod,” he lowered his voice, winding his arm around the man’s shoulders. “Where did you get this helmet from?”

“This?” Pequod chuckled, pointing to his head. His smile spoke of great pride. “Got it from my old man. He passed away before the Strike.”

“What was your old man’s name?”

Pequod frowned, biting his lip.

“Morpho.”

He should’ve guessed. Miller’s stomach twisted with piercing knots. He felt hot and cold at once, suddenly wishing to lie down.

When they got inside the penthouse which was converted into a dark and disorderly mess hall with folding chairs and cardboard boxes everywhere, a large map was unrolled and put up on the shabby wall. Mei, Miller assumed Diamond Dogs tactician, broke the plan down for the gathered. Snake sat down next to him, leaning forward with his hands clasped together. Quiet stood behind the others, smoking.  

“Blackout Curfew starts in an hour and a half, according to Nastasha’s report on sunset timing,” Mei spoke. “The green mark here,” she raised the pointer at it, “is Diamond Dogs’ temporary headquarters. The blue area,” the pointer slid up, “is State Palace, where the red marks alleged position of the nuke.”

“And that is?” Snake asked, frowning.

“President’s Penthouse,” she nodded. “The mission is to infiltrate the Palace and extract the nuke. Boss comes on the frontline, Pequod and Otacon provide helicopter support and communication.”

Soft murmur rolled through the mess hall. Meryl raised her hand.

“Boss, do you need mercenary backup?”

Miller sensed Snake’s gaze at himself and met his eye. He looked calm, but something in his aloof slouch indicated that his mind wasn’t fully there.

“Quiet is an excellent sniper and McDonell has vast military experience,” he said simply. “We eliminate the President, get the nuke into the desert by chopper, dispose of it, that’s all.”

The hall was silent.

“I’m not assigning anyone to disposal. We can’t risk exposure excess, the research on Radio Panacea isn’t finished yet. I’ll do it alone.”

Miller shifted in his seat. He was becoming impatient for the meeting to end.

When necessary preparations had been finished and weapons equipped, they got back on the roof. It was decided that a backup group will follow Snake and Miller with a forty-minute delay. Quiet was meant to watch the Penthouse through her scope from the nearest skyscraper.

Some ration snacks were distributed and despite the lack of any appetite Miller shoved the whole thing into his mouth. It tasted relatively alright, something like halva. Only that he was sure it wasn’t made with sunflower seeds. 

Otacon, Diamond Dogs lead engineer, was sitting cross-legged with an old laptop on his knees.

“I think we can reach the helipad in half an hour at best,” he told Snake, who stooped behind him. Pequod nodded rather eagerly.

Time was running out. Miller holstered the harness around his middle, pocketing guns and ammo into the many canvas bags he was provided.

Snake approached him, eyes far away.

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” he murmured. So soft-spoken, nothing like a leader of a rebel unit.

Miller cracked a smile.

“We’ve come this far. And it’s not like I have a place to go back to.” 

The crowd on the roof had thinned. Snake rubbed DD’s belly, asking him to guard the headquarters. As if knowing how unnecessary it was, the dog whined but retreated with obedience.

The city was bathed in the final sundown blaze. Chill wove in the air along with a viscous premonition. A low whiz cried like a siren.

And then at once Miller went blind.

Abrupt darkness made him halt; he felt the empty air with his arms, balancing in a crouch. Cold dull razors cut from within his skull, he grasped his collar, panting. It didn’t matter if he blinked or not, all he saw was black.

“Hey.”

Something touched his back, wrapped him in, steadied. He clutched onto the folds of cloth, smelling leather and greasy odor of the desert.

“Look at me.” His aviators were lifted from his nose and tucked onto his forehead. His face was cupped, he blinked fast and firm. The outline of Snake’s features dawned in front of him. His eye glinted in the light. So there was light.

“Don’t let the fear overcome you,” Snake muttered. His hands still clasped Miller’s face, a calloused thumb grazing across his cheekbone. “They sense it.”

“They?”

“Wolves.”

Miller swallowed, hard. Now he wasn’t at all against climbing around a concrete jungle.

It took Quiet just about ten minutes to get to the assigned building. She swallowed some Pentazemin – a parting gift from Sniper Wolf – and squatted, aiming at the window of State Palace. Through the scope she saw blurry shadows moving in the room. Two silhouettes, one lower, seemingly crouching. The other was immense, shape distorted and not quite resembling a human form. She tapped the transmitter and adjusted the earbud. Lowering the rifle, she glimpsed another shape crawling up the Palace. Two long pieces of cloth flapped in the wind.

“Snake,” she whispered into the transmitter. “Are you on station?”

“Not yet,” Snake’s voice came in, hushed. Wind howled in the background. “What’s the situation?”

Quiet peered through the scope. The figure, by all means humane, was advancing to the top of the building.

“I see two people inside. There’s someone else going up the Palace,” she muttered. “I can’t identify him. Should I remove him?”

There was a pause. She could hear Miller speaking in the distance but couldn’t distinguish his words.

“No,” Snake finally answered. “We can’t make the President aware of our presence yet. Wait for us.”

“Roger,  Boss.”

She straightened, tightening the hold on the rifle. Her hands were light and precise, the weapon felt weightless. She should thank Sniper Wolf if she saw her again.

Venom looked both ways before launching the harness hook to the opposite building. He braced and pushed off a wall, stomach gaping as he swung in the air before his feet met the glass surface. Miller followed suit, a small gasp escaping him as he landed beside him.

Somewhere far down, lonesome wailing sounded.

They climbed in silence interrupted only by occasional gusts and distant whines below. Venom began to sweat, his chest was rising and falling faster. He was too old for this.

“Let’s take a breath,” Miller offered, tapping his shoulder. Venom nodded.

They hang in the empty air, black abyss under their feet. His shoulders felt heavy.

“Snake,” Miller spoke in a soft murmur. The moonlight glinted on his glasses as he turned to him.

“Radio Panacea,” he muttered and looked away. “Can it cure... that thing you got from Quiet?”

Venom looked him in the eye even though Miller wasn’t returning his gaze.

“Me, Nastasha and Naomi have been doing a research on radiated herbs for a while. It’s yet to be discovered, but the chances exist.”

Miller went silent. His jaw clenched. All in all he didn’t seem pleased with the answer.

“You knew it all along,” he said, his fist tightened against the glass wall.

Venom blinked. Warmth spread through his system, like gentle waves lapping against flushed skin on a sunny beach where he and–

The memory was gone forced as he tried to linger on it. Venom blanked out and shook his head.

“It doesn’t change much, McDonell,” he said in a gentle tone, touching Miller’s stiff shoulder. “We can die anytime, no matter from a disease, or in the battlefield.”

“What for?” Miller uttered under his breath. His eyes shot up, glaring through the endless darkness.

“If it’s for saving a life, fine with me.”

They went on moving, not any more word uttered.

In the dark of the State Palace, the blurry shadow with sinister sprouts walked through the hall, footsteps echoing and rising the dust. Ocelot coughed. Eva had better keep her promise.

The looming form halted in front of him, and the moonlight hit the well-familiar features. So kindred to the original, but grayer, and more solemn; Solidus Snake peered at him from above. A swooshing sound and a subsequent grasp on his collar made Ocelot wince; immense power drew him up on his toes. Gnawing pain wrenched his shoulder.

“Report, Major,” Solidus boomed, tightening the hold of his hideous tendril.

Ocelot sucked in a breath. Air barely slipped through his narrow throat. Another sprout winded around his thigh, straining his muscles.

“Venom Snake got away from us,” Ocelot wheezed. Metal squeezed closer to his neck. Solidus’s face doubled in smeared blotches.

“Got away to get here, I presume?” His mouth sharpened, nostrils flaring. All holds firmed, strangling Ocelot, more sprouts wrapped his middle, his chest. He gasped at a creak from his upper ribcage, sharp pain piercing his side.

“Good thing for you that we have our agent in Diamond Dogs.” Solidus turned, and with a sharp motion threw Ocelot to the wall. His back hit it hard, he tried to catch his breath but couldn’t, gagging and raising his trembling hands to his neck. Tears welled in his eyes. He fell on all fours, coughing up blood.

“We’ve lured him here and he’s on the way,” the President uttered, folding his arms behind his back. He looked at his city enshrouded in darkness. “It’s your last chance, Revolver Ocelot. Failure not only makes you fired from Fox Hound, but ends your life. Is this clear?”

Ocelot mumbled in response. Every cell burned in horrendous ache. How could he take anyone down now? It was pathetic.

“Another case in question,” Solidus continued, walking around, “is Liquid Snake’s murder. Our sources inform that you were in Nevada at the time of his death.”

Ocelot sat up, nursing his shoulder.

“Venom Snake killed him,” he rasped, “I saw that.”

Solidus smirked. That smirk was nothing like John’s, cruel and cold.

“Are you sure?”

Before Ocelot could blink or shield himself, sprouts came after him, clutching him in a deadly grip. He braced not to cry out. Could he still rely on Eva, who abandoned him in the hospital for Solidus’s men to seize him? But she would retrieve him, she had to. That was a sweet lie to cherish.

He felt numb when Solidus dropped him to the ground. Every bone seemed to be broken, every muscle torn. He curled on the cold floor. Tears gushed down his face. With shaky fingers, he felt for a chain underneath his scarf and held onto the bullet hanging on it.

“I do not regard the other clones as my brothers.” Solidus stooped over him. “And certainly I’ve never regarded Venom Snake as one. But murder of a high rank officer is a treason, Major. Do I make myself clear?”

He grabbed Ocelot’s head in a metal grip. His skull roared with drilling pain from within.

Eva wouldn’t come. He would never see John again. This was the end.

Revolver Ocelot clasped at his dog tag chain and brought the bullet that once was extracted from his body to his lips. That was a fine duel, the best in his life. The first time someone complimented his skill. He closed his eyes, steel filling his mouth. If Hell existed, he hoped to meet John there.

The pressure eased quite abruptly. There was rustling, sounds of struggle, huffed rumbling. Perhaps it was the great release.

Jumping out of the air vent, Miller clutched the President’s neck between his thighs, Snake crawled over and placed the gun to his forehead. Those bizarre sprouts were a bad sign; he didn’t manage to call out as the President dashed back, launching them to Snake at lightspeed. There was a gunshot; Miller’s head hit the stone floor and he sharply exhaled. His skull buzzed; he gripped onto a shotgun, aiming. The two Snakes had fallen, wrestling and rolling, trading blows; the sprouts weaved around Venom’s body. He roared, fists furious. Miller jerked himself up, but his leg got stuck. He turned – Revolver Ocelot was clinging to it. His face was a bloody mess.

“There’s a button,” he said, hoarse. “...on his tailbone... for those...”

Miller peered at his eyes, bruised up and swollen. His crooked pose was too unnatural for an intact human. Nothing was left of the man who tortured him, all cockiness gone, only vulnerability seeping through his features.

With a mighty impact, Venom landed to the floor. The air was knocked out of his lungs, he reached for the gun but it was fetched from his holster before he managed to get a hold of it. Solidus rose on his feet, his mouth a sharp line, the only eye drilling him with a jab of hatred.

“You’ve never been one of us,” he growled. A sprout advanced toward Venom at high speed, he braced to roll over, get away, but Solidus was faster: with a sharp clang, the metal seized his shrapnel. A white flash blinked in front of his eye. Immense pressure nagged his skull, spreading ruthless ache throughout his head. Venom squinted, red meat pulsed on the back of his eyelid, a macabre pattern dancing and forming into odd shapes. One shape swiped to another, fast and distorted, formless blotches getting outlines, alternating and emanating from the back of his mind.

He couldn't see his surroundings anymore; out of the pit of his head he heard a familiar voice crying out to him – Miller.

Like back then... it sounded unreal in the fires swallowing him into the black abyss where explosions roar turned into white noise. The day he died.


	5. Chapter 5

The childhood was rough and blurry. People died around him, terminally ill, of starvation, casualties of war. His mother, all three of his brothers. He vowed not to let that happen when he grew up.

Militaires Sans Frontières. Soldiers without borders, a quiet beach, skylarks croaking, a dozen tents with palm tree roofs. Someone wounded every now and then, coconut reek from every mouth cause who didn’t drink coconut milk in a place that was stuffed with coconuts. Boss’s smile as he patted his shoulder. You’re my best man, he said. A youngling brought in, almost blew up the legendary soldier, was almost beheaded but spared at the last minute. Impulsive decisions were a big part of Boss’s PTSD he refused to get treated.

Friday nights outside in front of a campfire. The blond guy was a show-off but played guitar like a god. Boss gazed at him through the fire like at a trophy wife. Came as no surprise.

The trophy wife got promoted to subcommander. Proud of accomplishment, cockiness increased. He didn’t lack professionalism, though. Couldn’t go into the field, but got a talent at accounting and business negotiations. MSF needed that.

Despite not being the fighter type, more often than not the commander was brought in beaten to the sickbay. Getting stitches on his pretty face. They’d make a nice manly attire as scars, he kept joking. Carefree, borderline reckless.

More serious injuries didn’t stop coming, broken ribs, neck bruised with suspiciously familiar imprints of thick palms. He put on stitches with trembling fingers. The commander kept laughing.

He knew what was going on. The guy’s easygoing and flirtatious nature wouldn’t allow him to brood. But he did. Spaced out, bit his lip. More bruises, more bleedings as he kept returning to the sickbay. He played with fire, adding gasoline to it.

Sleeping with MSF female staff got him a nearly broken spine. Had to wear a cervical collar for a couple of weeks. Never stopped playing guitar at the parties. His eyes looked empty underneath the shades.

Once he got so atrociously drunk that he puked all over the cot in the bay. Then sat up. Then he cried. Medic never agreed to be a counselor, but he sat, listening. Thank God Almighty Boss was on a mission.

The commander’s glee was a fragile facade. But it worked. Boss had no clue. Not that he would’ve understood with his poor level of empathy. The man was born to pull triggers, to hunt down, to ravish. Not to cherish.

So Medic cherished his commander. It became comfort, perhaps a far-fetched home with that straining feeling in his chest whenever Kaz put his arms around his neck and leaned into him.

One day he couldn’t hide his feelings anymore. Kaz was smiling through the signet of sorrow. Boss had been absent.

Having a shared secret was a joy and a curse. But Kaz looked happier. He snuggled to him in a tent. It was hot, he could hear distant waves lapping. Kaz yawned and stretched, then pulled him in a hug. Then kissed him. They laughed, rolling on the floor.

“I’m gonna get a heat stroke,” Kaz said with a playful smirk on his lips. “Shouldn’t we undress to avoid that, _Ahab_?”

Ahab tucked a wayward strand of golden hair behind his ear.

“Sure, Kaz.”

It wasn’t before long when the world knew they possessed a nuke. In one night everything was burned down. The rescue helicopter with him, Kaz and Boss on board, with the girl he didn’t manage to save, piloted by Morpho, blew up and was buried in the Caribbean waters.

This marked the day Ahab died.

 

Eye snapping open, Venom Snake stood up. The pressure was gone along with the metal tendril. The whole set of those fell to the ground with a thud. Solidus was caught in a grab from behind before he could turn. He wriggled, bringing the gun up. With effortless precision, Venom snatched the gun from his hand and aimed at him. A head popped up behind his shoulder. Solid Snake was clutching him tight.

On the roof of the opposite building, Quiet and Eva stared at each another. The wind hollowed through the night, moonlight flowing between their silhouettes. Both dashed forward. 

“Where’s the nuke?” Venom asked, pointing the barrel at the President’s forehead. He grinned.

“I’ve searched everywhere, it’s gone,” Solid interrupted. “If it ever was here.”

A gunshot blasted through the still air. In the Penthouse of the State Palace, the President of Maze York, Solidus Snake, fell lifeless. On top of the skyscraper, choked in Quiet’s hold, Eva fell to her knees.

The radio buzzed in Quiet’s ear.

“Target eliminated,” Snake spoke. His breathing was heavy. “All units withdraw. Over and out.”

Quiet let go of Eva and aimed between her eyes. She peered at her with apathetic acceptance of her fate.

Not lowering the gun, Quiet hit the transmitter button.

“Punished Snake speaking.”

Quiet focused her eyes at her beaten opponent. Undoubtedly, she had some ribs broken; her shoulders slouched, limp arms lowered to the floor.

“Boss, shall I keep Eva alive?”

Back in Fox Hound, Eva once shared a pack of instant noodles with her. Laughed and said that Big Boss used to be paranoid about his clones turning against him and had created a body double.

“Venom Snake is a nice guy,” Eva had said with an absent-minded smile. “I’d rather not be the one sent after his head.”

Quiet waited. Snake was silent for a while; there was noise on the line. She heard Miller’s and someone else’s voices. Then he sighed.

“Judge for yourself,” he said.

“Roger. Out.”

Quiet stooped and lifted Eva's barely alert body onto her shoulder.

In the Penthouse, David was laying out the situation to Snake and Miller.

“I’ve exterminated the President’s men,” he said, wiping off his gun. “Searched for the nuke. Apparently the whole call was a hoax to lure you in.”

He noticed how unsteadily Snake walked toward Master Miller and helped him on his feet. Miller seemed unhurt, but he gazed at Snake with fair disturbance. 

“It can’t be a hoax,” Snake said, turning to him. Miller winded his arm over his shoulders, a supporting hand on his chest. “The data came from the researchers of Diamond Dogs.”

David scowled.

“There’s a traitor in your unit,” a hoarse voice spoke from behind.

Their attention turned to a bloodied man sprawled on the floor. The red scarf riled David like a red drape to a bull. He dashed toward the man, but Miller caught his arm.

“Wait,” he said in a low voice.

“He killed Eli,” David spoke with widening eyes. Rage pumped in his veins. “I’m gonna kill the bastard.”

Venom glanced from Miller to Dave, then to Ocelot, who produced a small whine and winced. He took Solid’s shoulder and faced him.

“Revenge isn’t the answer, Dave,” he spoke, calm and cool. Dave’s features twisted in pure belligerence. One a soldier would experience on the battlefield before jumping under a tank with a grenade clasped in his hand.

“Snake’s right,” Miller nodded, taking Dave’s other shoulder. “Let’s listen to what he has to say.”

But Ocelot wasn’t speaking. His face twitched in great pain, in a coughing fit he spit blood to the ground. How he was still breathing with all these injuries was a mystery.

“Let’s take him in,” Snake said resolutely. “I’ll treat his wounds.”

A very questionable decision, but Miller could see his logic. David, however, couldn’t.

“I don’t think we can trust him. The man is a torturer, and while he told me about the flaw in the President’s–”

“I know.” Snake nodded. “I’ve witnessed enough atrocities done by the man. But he’s close to Big Boss. We can get all the necessary intel and more.”

With that, Snake crouched and searched Ocelot’s shaking body for weapons. He extracted three revolvers, a hunting knife, a shotgun and a long girdle.

“I didn’t know Ocelot for long before I left Fox Hound,” Snake commented, examining the damage. “But I’m aware he isn’t an amateur, yet he allowed Solidus to do this to himself. I can see he’s been also shot in the shoulder,” he added, carefully tracing the cloth above the dark wound. “And not today.”

Miller squatted next to him. Took off his glasses, rubbed the bridge of his nose.

And so it was decided. Miller tucked Ocelot on his shoulder, arguing with Snake who would carry him. Frankly, his condition was not all that better than Ocelot’s. Snake looked like a ghost. Or like he’d seen a ghost. He needed some rest, not another detour and god knew how long this operation would take. David was laconic and grim, but he didn’t protest anymore. After all, whatever plan he’d had on his mind, he was in a similar position to Ocelot’s: a Fox Hound operative who’s just fell out of it. Only that David’s choice was his own.

They called in the chopper. Pequod was happy to serve.

“I know what’s on your mind,” Miller murmured to Dave as Snake took Ocelot’s body into cabin. “I’ve been there. Don’t let vengeance take over you. It’s never worth it.”

David didn’t answer. Averted his eyes. Miller sighed and placed his good palm on his ex-subordinate’s back.

“If it makes things easier for you, it was an accident. Although I know it doesn’t.”

They boarded and took off. Dave pressed to Miller’s shoulder, peering out of the cockpit’s window. Snake sat farther away, looking at Otacon’s laptop screen over his shoulder.

“I don’t remember the day when I decided to abandon Fox Hound. It wasn’t long after Venom Snake left. Big Boss was furious. And that made me realize he wasn’t as stoic as he looked. The man does have a weakness.” Dave sighed. “If only I convinced Eli to work on his takedown with me... He’s always been so stubborn, that brat. It wouldn’t have happened if I planned in advance.”

With a heavy heart, Miller pulled him in a one-armed hug. Dave didn’t move away and they sat like this through the whole ride.

When they returned to the headquarters, Quiet had already arrived there, sitting on a roof with a senseless blonde by her feet. Snake briefly examined her for critical injuries and, finding none, loaded both the girl and Ocelot on each shoulder. And he was gone.

Having forcefully put Dave to bed (Meryl insisted she stay by his side), Miller found himself wandering around the headquarters, idly listening to Diamond Dogs staff chatting. He learned that they soon were to move south, some weren’t pleased, saying that with the President gone they didn’t need permission to stay in Maze York anymore. Some of the higher rank silenced those by saying that it was their Boss’s decision to make. Impressive loyalty.

But knowing of the traitor’s presence, Miller couldn’t relax among those people. He bummed a few cigarettes from Quiet – she stood in the corner, watching backs – and set forth to the roof.

He sat smoking. DD curled in his lap, dozed off as Miller rubbed his fur. The city shrouded in darkness didn’t seem as pitch black as before they took off. The moon cast silver outlines upon the blind buildings, making the remains of rare windows blink in the night like a beacon highlighting rocking waves of the sea.

One similar night twenty years ago Miller stood shoulder to shoulder with the man who would later bring doom upon the world. How naive he was, nodding and laughing and making amends with the devil. Nuclear deterrence was a necessary insurance for a nonstate military organization. What an idiot he was.

The night edged to dawn; first rose gold strands tore through the indigo canvas. Miller glanced at his watch. Downstairs, Snake had been fighting for lives of his foes for three hours. DD got up with reluctance and trotted to the fire exit.

Miller’s back and neck were stiff and sore. His eyeballs stung of overuse, but he couldn’t think of sleep now. He’d run out of cigarettes.

The fire exit door opened, creaking against the howling gust. Miller turned toward the intruder: Snake walked to him in a slow, labored pace. He was wearing a lab coat with various stains, the origin of which Miller didn’t really want to know but could easily guess.

Snake plopped by his side, arms resting on his knees.

“So, how did it go?” Miller asked in a raspy voice and cleared his throat.

Snake looked worn. Every crease in his face spoke of immense fatigue. But his eye shone with determination.

“We need to talk.”

“What is it?”

“I know it’s too much for one night, but you’re the person who needs to know this,” he spoke in a low voice. Their eyes locked. “When Solidus grabbed my shrapnel, I remembered who I am.”

Miller’s muscles tensed. A hollow pit opened in his stomach.

“I’m Ahab.”

He peered at the man before him, gaping. He felt cold and hot; his head buzzed. His hands shook as he grabbed Snake’s wrist.

“But... this can’t... this can’t be, Ahab... he died in a helicopter crash twenty–”

“Twenty years ago, when MSF got wrecked.” Snake sighed. Miller’s chest tightened; blood froze in his veins. He stared at Snake, who took his trembling hand in his and squeezed it. His thumb stroked his knuckles just like when–

Miller’s vision fogged. He fought with a sob that was tearing his throat apart. Killed it.

“I know it’s hard to believe,” Snake whispered. He looked so damn sad. “But I remembered everything so clearly, it cannot be fake. It’s not like Big Boss’s memories in my head. These are real, Kaz.”

The name he hadn’t heard in long, lonesome years, the name that only a few close ones knew. He got it back. Shaking, Kaz threw himself on the man whom he loved and had mourned decades ago, clutching him in a tight embrace as if he was afraid to wake up from a dream, he wanted it to feel real; he kissed him in the lips, choking on sorrow and joy.

Ahab held him close and kissed back. He felt scars on his lips that weren’t even the same shape that Kaz remembered, but that tenderness he couldn’t have ever mistaken for someone else’s.

He was real.

They weren’t letting go of each other, watching the sun rise through the crimson clouds, beaming at the withered world with triumphant radiance.

Before long, Venom found Kaz sleeping on his shoulder. In the bronze light his face so much resembled his youthful, boyish features. His chest was shrinking and unraveling with pain; so many wasted years, tragedies that might not have happened if things went different. But Venom shook his head, banishing the thoughts. Kaz was right here with him.

He carried Kaz inside, pressing him to his chest in a careful hold. The only vacant bed was in the room where Solid slept, with Meryl passed out with her head leaned on the edge of his bed. Venom laid Kaz on the empty cot by the window, shrugged off his dirty coat and lay beside. It was too narrow for two; Kaz wrapped an arm around his middle in his sleep, burying his face in Venom’s chest. Straining warmth spread through Venom’s system and he rested his good hand on the back of Kaz’s head, stroking his tied hair.

He dreamt of MSF and a shared cot with a young Kaz who smelled of the sea and coconut milk.

Venom woke up late past noon. The room was empty save for himself, bathed in pre-sunset purple. He washed his face and brushed his teeth, ready to head out when he saw a piece of paper on a bedside table.

He smiled at the handwriting that had roughened since he’d last seen it on MSF documents.

_S̶n̶a̶k̶e̶ D̶e̶a̶r̶ ̶A̶ Venom,_

_We’ve obtained the information about the traitor. Meet me in room 101._

_Kaz_

And there he went. A couple of guards saluted him on the way in. Their faces were solemn, if not scared.

The room once used to be a concert hall but now there was no audience for the show. Eerie light of hundred candles spilled across it, making the shadows deeper. Venom walked past the empty rows of seats to the stage, where Kaz and Solid stood in front of three chairs. On the chairs, tied with ropes, sat Ocelot, Eva and Naomi.

“Finally,” Kaz muttered through his teeth and gave a quick pat to Venom’s shoulder. “There she is, the Judas.”

Venom peered in Naomi’s eyes but she averted hers. She was biting her lip. Ocelot coughed. He couldn’t have recovered so soon after the surgery. His nose was bloody. Eva held herself the most gracefully, her look cold and vehement.

“Naomi,” Venom muttered, kneeling by her feet. He remembered her excitement when they first discovered the healing effects of a wildflower, that they later named Radio Panacea. There must’ve been a reason behind her deeds.

“She hasn’t said anything,” Solid butted in. His features were obscured in the flames.

“She won’t,” Ocelot said, raspy, and spat on the floor. That earned him a blow to the face from Solid. Venom couldn’t appreciate such treatment of a patient, but he’d earned that.

Turning to Naomi, he took her hand.

“Look at me,” he said softly. “Are you afraid?”

She made a barely visible nod.

“Don’t be. You’re safe with us. Just tell me about his plan.”

Naomi inhaled, eyed her fellow prisoners and her captors. A frown quivered between her brows. She faced Venom and dropped her head.

“Big Boss is building a nation,” she muttered. “He wants to rule the remnants of the world he destroyed. But to regain people’s trust, he needs insurance. A pledge that will let him create miracles and draw people back to him.”

“This means–”

Naomi nodded.

“Of course it’s a facade, his real insurance has always been nukes. He wouldn’t suddenly want to become a saint; heaven has never been his kind of place anyway. So he needs Radio Panacea to create an image.”

“A medical deterrence, huh,” Venom rubbed his chin and stood up. Exchanged glances with Kaz. His jaw was clenched tight.

“Yes, and not only that. His end game is to lure more people into Fox Hound, make it a fearful nonstate army to oppose the Soviet Archipelago and the States of Africa. Needless to say, he plans to buy over the people without chances, those who have no other choice, and make them join his forces. Cannonfodder for the future world ruler.”

Kaz run an erratic hand across his face, sharply inhaled. “Sick bastard.”

Venom would’ve let him out, but it wasn’t the time and the place to show vulnerability. And Kaz was too prideful to run away with his tail between his legs.

“So, Naomi, did he assign you to steal the formula of Radio Panacea?” he asked instead.

“I don’t know of his exact plans,” Solid interrupted, “but from the intel I was given for my mission, I reckon for Ocelot and Eva’s mission as well, Big Boss strives to get you back.”

“To research for him,” Naomi clarified. “Since you've parted ways he'd been working on a scheme that... I cannot possibly call humane.”

“What scheme?” Kaz prompted. His voice was growing harsh and he stepped forward. Venom put an arm between him and Naomi. She shook her head, her mouth quirked.

“John wants to get your brain to make it a core of an AI.”

Everyone’s heads turned at Eva. Ocelot was glaring at her with gaping mouth.

“What are– Don’t tell them!” he roared at her and earned another punch from Solid, now hard enough that his chair creaked and gave in, dropping him to the floor.

Eva closed her eyes.

“Adam, I don’t care about anything except leaving this place alive now,” she muttered. “We’ve been cornered, it’s stupid to be stubborn now.”

Kaz rubbed his forehead, turned away. Venom wasn’t at all surprised about the thing with AI, it was only logical after everything Big Boss had used him for.

“After you left,” Eva looked at Venom, “John realized that he couldn’t keep people by force, no brainwashing or his charisma or whatnot can win against free will of a man. The AI was designed by Fox Hound’s intel team, lead by Dr. Clark and Naomi. Our mission was to hunt you down and get your brain to Big Boss.”

“So many talented scientists and he needs a brain of a mere battlefield medic.” Venom chuckled. It was so ironic and bitter that he found it amusing.

“You know he has his hyper-fixations,” Eva said with a sorrowful note in her voice.    

“I know,” Venom sighed. “Which is partly my own fault. Failed too many times to get him to have his PTSD treated.”

David and Kaz turned away, beckoning Venom to join in. They rounded together, locking arms on each other’s shoulders.

“We need to take him down,” said David, determined. “I’ve been waiting for the moment to track you down and offer to join forces.” He glanced at Kaz. “Master, I know you’ve been holding a grudge against Big Boss for ages.”

Kaz scoffed.

“A grudge is rather euphemistic,” he sighed. “Although it’s not even about revenge. There’s nothing personal to hold against him now, that’s worn off long ago. I’ve made mistakes, the damage of which cannot be undone. I’ve been a coward, but at least I can atone for that by taking off his head.”

He glanced at Venom. His aviators gleamed with red flash like a visual battle cry.

“When you told me you were taking me to him,” Kaz said in a lower voice, “all resurfaced.”

“I never lied to you.” Venom smirked. “That was the plan all along.”

All three of them unlocked arms. Solid raised his hand.

“Are you in?”

With a sly smirk, Kaz clenched his hand.

“I’m in.”

Venom glanced at both, and his hand grasped theirs.

They turned back to the prisoners. Solid walked around, arms at his sides.

“There’s one problem you guys might help solve,” he drawled. “That you _will_ help solve.”

Venom watched with interest. Kaz stood close by his side, their shoulders touching slightly.

David grabbed Ocelot’s collar and put him straight on his seat. Stooped to him from behind, a grin playing on his mouth.

“Fox Hound members here know that Big Boss’s headquarters is a giant moving vehicle,” he said and looked at Eva and Naomi.

“An untraceable moving vehicle,” Snake joined in. Kaz’s brow rose. It was so typical of John to hide, but, to his credit, he was impressed with this entirely new level of paranoia.

David walked to Eva, speaking close to her ear.

“It’s only natural that Big Boss’s lover would know how to track it. Am I right?”

Eva’s eyes widened for a moment. An imprint of grief obscured her face.

“You’re mistaken,” she whispered, lowering her face. “I don’t know about it.”

A gun cocked against the back of her head.

“Wait!” Ocelot shouted, glaring at him. “Don’t touch her, she’s telling the truth!”

Eva gaped, staring at him. Small tears emerged in the corners of her eyes.

“Ugh, fine, I’ll tell you,” Ocelot frowned, his mouth twisted. “You clones have undergone medical checkups by Dr. Clark, remember those?”

“Yes, why?” David asked, impatient.

“She injected you with nanomachines for Boss to know your location. I was, too, with a difference of my own volition.”

That was some dedication. For a moment Kaz wondered if Ocelot was as sane as Big Boss.

“Not to spur your blind hatred, but Boss never trusted you or Liquid, or Solidus whatsoever. Good thing his instincts didn’t fail him. He only trusted me, so I have two-sided tracking with those. I know where Arsenal Gear is.”

He looked so young and non-threatening with that slouch and sorrowful look in his eyes. Did he really admire Big Boss that much?

“Start talking then,” David pointed the gun at him. His frame wasn’t tensed, he wasn’t going to shoot.

Ocelot grunted, swore under his breath.

“I was to follow your and Liquid’s tracks to find Venom Snake and take his head. Eva was merely my backup. Solidus, as though he never learned this, was to throw you all from the trail, nothing more. If only I wasn’t shot by that damn–”

Kaz met his glare. So after all he’d made some right decisions.

“But you cannot track Arsenal Gear without my assistance,” he added and the corners of his lips quivered. The bastard aura got back to him with it. “And that you can do over my dead body. I’ll never betray Boss, I stand by this. But don’t get Eva involved,” his voice dropped to murmur. “She has nothing to do with it.”

“Adam, you’re talking nonsense!” Eva interrupted, voice shaky. David put the gun down, watching the two at a loss. “John won’t pat your head for that, why do you want to get killed so much?”

Ocelot faced her, and his atrocious grin softened into a compassionate smile. An almost intimate look.

“I have faith in him and his ideals,” he said, wistful. “And I’m ready to die for them.”

Ideals my ass, danced on the tip on Kaz’s tongue, but he could respect loyalty, in enemy or not. Revolver Ocelot was so profusely naive, exactly like himself long years ago.

By his side, Venom moved closer to Naomi. He eased her rope and helped her on her feet.

“Is there any way to make the nanomachines' transmission malfunction?” he asked her.

Naomi raised an eyebrow at him.

“If we could set the two-way tracking up, or better make it one-way from Solid's side, could that work?”

Everyone looked at him. Ocelot’s eyes widened.

“Don’t even think about it!”

Kaz’s heart leapt as he saw a wide smirk pulling at Venom’s lips.

“Bingo.”

They kept Ocelot and Eva tied in 101. On their way out Venom once more addressed Naomi, asking her what could’ve possibly made her join Big Boss.

“I know you’re a kind girl,” he said softly. “You wouldn’t do it for nothing.”

They walked out, Naomi halted behind the doors. Rummaged in a chest pocket of her coat.

“He told me he’d help to find my brother. And he has connections all over the world, I... couldn’t say no.”

She extracted a worn photo of a silver-haired boy holding an AK-47, by all means of pre-strike era. Venom and Kaz exchanged glances and braced her by the shoulders.

“Consider it done.”

They spent the whole night in the makeshift briefing room without nodding off. Not only tracking Arsenal Gear and deciphering Solid’s nanotransmission; a billion things were to be decided all at once. Moving Diamond Dogs from Maze York, setting formations of backup, helicopter support, means of communication in wasteland, role setting, weapon equipment, Ocelot and Eva’s roles, etcetera. Most of the staff were kept away from this scheduling, three hours into discussion Naomi called in Otacon.

He eyed Solid, tapping his chin. Then grasped his face, turned it left and right, opened his eyelids, told him to stick out his tongue.

“I think I could try that, but it might take time,” Otacon said to Venom, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I need to take a blood sample first of all.”

So they left. Kaz was in the middle of his third cup of surrogate coffee when he noticed that Naomi had dozed off at the desk. He took off his scarf and placed it on her shoulders.

“Kaz,” Venom called in whisper. “Are you sure that you want to get involved in this?”

He would’ve laughed if he wasn’t so exhausted. Stepping up to Venom, he wrapped his good arm around his middle and looked him in the eye.

“The point of no return was reached when we shook,” he said, serious. “Also there’s no way I’m quitting on you. Not this time.”

They shared a brief kiss as the door creaked. Quiet’s head popped in, DD’s head a bit lower.

Soon she was informed on the situation. She listened with focused eyes, no interruptions or gestures whatsoever. The plan remained an outline until they’d had Otacon’s report on his research. One thing was settled, though.  

“There’s only one role I see for you in this,” Venom concluded. “I’ve never asked you to stay, and yet you did. I am grateful for everything you’ve done for us. But now it’s time for you to live your own life.”

Quiet’s face dropped, a pout surfacing on her lips.

“You and Diamond Dogs migrate to Nova Moses,” Venom said. He pat DD’s head. “You too, buddy.”

“But I could–” Quiet started. Venom shook his head.

“I don’t want to put you in danger,” he mouthed. “This is not your battle to fight.”

“But how are you going to take Big Boss and all his men down on your own?” Quiet asked.

Kaz looked at Venom. He looked back, silent.

By the morning the citizens of Maze York started to gather around the RF Center. They chanted and hollered, hundreds of people below, so loud that it was reaching the top of the building.

Quiet hung out of the window, gazing down.

“I can’t quite distinguish it, but I think they’re saying... _Boss_?”

Venom clasped his hands together, slouching on a chair.

“A ticket system for food wasn’t a good idea, if you ask me,” he said. “If I were the President, I’d rather assign everyone to work. This was a very imperfect infrastructure he built. There are some doctors, bakers, odd job workers, and miners who get more tickets, but regular citizens had no constant income. Still sometimes had to hunt for wolves at nights, which as you imagine isn’t the safest way to get food.”

“Urban savages with a tyrant at the helm,” Kaz mused. “So this is why you killed him off.”

Venom stretched and got up.

“Liberation leads to anarchy, but through anarchy they can acquire democracy,” he said and yawned. “Let’s call it a night.”

Venom was out like a light when his head touched the pillow. His eye rolled under his eyelid in restless circles, creases on his skin twisting. Kaz reached his good hand out and hovered against his face.

Although he’d spent years to banish the face off his mind, he now saw that the similarity to Ahab was even more uncanny than to Big Boss. The narrow bridge on his nose, sharper nostrils, slender cut of his eye, taller forehead... Kaz’s chest overflowed with swollen, drowning affright and elation that overlapped and created an urge in him to pull Ahab close and just hold him. Kaz didn’t; the man earned some rest and he wasn’t going to disturb him. But the leaden premonition was locking over his shoulders, pressing to them, suffocating him. 

Kaz sat up, smoking and trying not to focus on the images from the crashing helicopter that flowed freely into his mind. Among those he grasped another, desperate to linger on it.

“Nervous, Doc?” Kaz grinned against his lips, sinking another kiss into Ahab’s mouth. He was hiding a smile and wringing out of his hold, trying to get his new uniform buttoned up. Kaz knew he was proud of it.

“Get off, Commander, Boss will see us,” he said only half meaning it. Kaz rolled his eyes in a classy act, propping his hands to his hips.

“Belay, soldier,” he switched into barking tone. “Language. I’m briefing you on the mission.”

Medic straightened into a line, saluting with a deadpan. Just in time, for the tent’s drape opened, letting the slouched shadow in.

“Boss,” both saluted, Kaz with a wide grin. Big Boss crawled in like a hunting beast, as if not noticing them at first, glancing both sides.

“Thirty five minutes till departure,” he uttered and raised his arm to leave. Kaz caught his elbow.

“Snake,” he said in a lower, more intimate voice. “How about we take a picture first?”

A slight twist of Boss’s brow indicated vexation. But he complied, beckoning with a nod.

They took a picture in front of a helicopter, Kaz and Medic each by Boss’s side. Only Kaz was beaming. Ahab allowed himself a timid smile. Boss was stone-faced as ever.

Kaz’s fingers lingered in a handshake with Ahab as he boarded the chopper. Boss noticed that.

Several hours later Kaz was firing back, running to the same chopper on his shot legs like to the last fortress. Boss was unresponsive, as if in trance, when he helped him in; Kaz was furious. Medic was extracting a bomb from the girl’s womb when it went off in his hands.

Older Kaz exhaled the smoke with a shaky breath, ran his hand across his face under the aviators.

He hesitated before stooping over the backpack of the few personal possessions he'd decided to take from his burger joint.

A tiny train model, a Japanese mouthpiece, his mother’s magatama pendant (he brought it to his lips and kissed it), a penknife, a worn book of recipes. The earlier dated ones concluded his profane attempts to recollect the dishes of his childhood, the further back the more meat was included, the studial result after some 200 pages of evolution being the chemical burger. Kaz fingered the dog ear on the last page before slipping into the stash pocket inside the cover.

He did not save many pictures throughout the 54 years of his life. A faded sepia shot of his mother, almost indistinguishable; himself with little Catherine in his arms, he and David in front of his former cabin in Alaska. And a torn piece of a photo he’d avoided looking at for years.

Ahab in front of the helicopter on the day of MSF’s fall.

Kaz glanced at Venom, he slept tight. He wouldn’t be mad about such a thing, would he?

He blinked tight and reached for Venom’s jacket. Dipped his hand into the inside pocket. Of course the picture he had on the day he captured Kaz was there.

It wasn’t hard to find tape. The break was matching perfectly. Kaz put the pieces together with careful fingers, sticking the tape from behind.

Younger Kaz was beaming at him from the picture, John glaring sullenly with the timidly smiling Medic by his side. He tucked the intact picture back into the jacket pocket.

The door opened, letting in Dave who yawned and stretched on his way.

“This Otacon guy is really pumped,” he commented, laying down on the neighboring cot. “I guess he’s about to figure it all out.”

Kaz showed him the picture from Alaska. Told him about his dog. After a bit of hesitation, he showed him the picture of Catherine.

“Took after her father, huh.” Dave smiled. He took a cigarette, they both smoked in silence.

In the room 101, Ocelot spoke to Eva in whisper. She was leaning her head on his shoulder. Naomi brought them rations and some water. Ocelot teared up as the moisture hit his dry throat.

Quiet watched them from the doorway.

After twenty-four hours Diamond Dogs gathered in the mess hall. Nastasha and Naomi were helping Otacon to assemble his equipment. David noticed loads of wires coming from his laptops, transmitters and whatnot.

Meryl sat by his side, legs crossed and foot jittering. Otacon rubbed his hands, checked the screen and turned to the audience.

“I’ll make it quick and coherent for everyone, omitting the details. Operation Nanointrude has been a stunning success,” he said with clear boasting and pushed up his glasses. “Not only did we eliminate the transducer from Arsenal Gear, but we also established a one-way connection. It is now possible to locate the target without enemy’s surveillance.”

Some clapped. David saw Venom smiling proudly.

Otacon approached him, holding out the device.

“Roll up your sleeve, please,” he asked. So David did.

Otacon extracted some spirited gauze and patted the junction of his elbow. Then pressed something on the device; a small needle appeared, and he injected in into David's vein.

“To unlock the iDroid, press the button here,” he pressed a red button on the side. A small screen with neon graphics appeared. A blue dot blinked in the upper left corner.

“There it is, Arsenal Gear’s location.”

Rustle sounded around him, curious heads popping over his shoulder. Some gasped in awe.

“The iDroid is powered on bioenergetics,” Otacon proceeded. “It’s not very convenient, but that’s the best I can offer on the road.”

Otacon withdrew the transmitter and covered the prickle with gauze, bending David’s arm and holding his wrist up.

“There’s one more thing,” he turned to Venom and Master Miller, who stood beside. “A chance of counter-hack exists. If we rely on Naomi’s account on Dr. Clark, the flaw in transmission will be found out and reverted sooner than later. For that, Solid, you need to split up with Boss.”

Master stepped forward. He looked cranky and wired, voice creaking. No wonder with how little he slept.

“We can’t let ourselves be spotted,” he grumbled. “Any solutions to this problem?”

Otacon folded his arms on his chest. How smug. 

“Good thing you asked, I’m getting there. You and Boss will be injected with nanoresidue I extracted from the sample. It doesn’t bear the initial connection to Arsenal Gear, but it can provide communication between your and Solid’s nanomachines via iDroids. Solid will take a warped route from you in case Big Boss sends his men after him.”

“So I’m the bait, huh?”

David met Meryl’s concerned glance. He shook his head. It was a piece of cake, nothing he couldn’t handle.

Then Venom proceeded to lay out his plan regarding Diamond Dogs’ movement. The unit was to head to Nova Moses, keeping Ocelot and Eva as decoys. There was no way Big Boss wouldn’t notice the change of vector in Ocelot’s route.

“We have our men in the village,” Venom informed. “The party is against Fox Hound’s deals and is up to cooperate. There’s also all the necessities for an extended stay. Might be even better than here.”

And as expected, some people began to argue. ‘Maze York was free of the tyrant now and there was no reason for them to move’, many voiced their concerns. An oil derrick and stable water supplies didn’t seem enough.

Venom leaned onto the desk with Otacon’s equipment, rested his palms on his thighs.

“I’m not forcing all of you to join,” he muttered. “You are free to resign. Diamond Dogs isn’t about blind submission.”

At that, the protesters went silent. Some apologized. Someone said that they weren’t really complaining and living in a village might be a better idea.

As Mei took stand and proceeded to lay out the route for Diamond Dogs on a big map and Venom returned to his seat, David turned to him, stooping.

“What’s it all about, Nova Moses?” he asked.

Venom and Master Miller exchanged glances. Both grinned at him.

“Building a nation, but vice versa,” Venom said. “Letting a nation build itself.”

By the night Venom and Kaz had been injected with nanoresidue and checked their iDroids. The connection was flawless, although Otacon mentioned that it could get inconsistent over distance. Arsenal Gear didn’t move at a fast pace, Hell Machine was faster. They should hang back a little just to be on the safe side.

They stocked rations and water, medications, bandages, ammo. Seeing how Diamond Dogs were getting dreary with the approach of the inevitable farewell, Venom called up Pequod and leaned to his ear.

“Look after everyone,” he whispered. “Especially Quiet and DD.”

He decided not to draw anyone’s attention and beckoned Kaz to follow him to the roof. He made a subtle nod.

Some lights were shining through the night, blinking like stars in the dark maze of the city. Venom adjusted the bags and the harness, ready to start climbing when someone called out to him.

Quiet walked up to them, her eyes bright in the moonlight. DD was following her. Venom squatted and brought him into a hug, patting his fur and pressing him to his chest. The dog whined but sat still.

“Be good, okay?” Venom said, straightening. His throat was itchy and he blinked.

DD stepped to Kaz, rubbing against his good leg. Kaz sighed and patted his back.

“I hope you and Blade Wolf will be good friends,” he said with a distant smile.

Quiet winded her arms around Venom and Kaz’s necks, pulling them close. She clutched them hard, but her hands on their backs were shaky and weak.

“Take care,” Venom whispered to her and placed a brief kiss on her forehead as she leaned away.

She rubbed her eyes with a gloved hand and regarded him with a bright smile.

“Thank you for letting me live, Venom Snake.”

She dashed away in the night as if running away from tearing feelings.

Venom glanced at Kaz. An instant grin popped on his face as their eyes met. Venom grabbed his hand and squeezed it, feeling Kaz squeezing back.

And they were off into the night.

Two hours later, David was standing on the same roof, double-checking his supplies. He’d made sure to drop by 101 and tell Ocelot that it wasn’t over yet. His car wasn’t far from the former State Palace. Nothing to loiter around for.

He was one foot in the air when Otacon stumbled onto the roof, running up to him and panting.

“Snake... wait... I forgot to...”

He stood still, waiting for Otacon to catch his breath. He stooped and caught David’s forearm for support.

“It’s David,” he said simply.

“Huh?”

Otacon glanced at him with puzzled eyes, and broke into a smile.

“Oh! I didn’t expect it to be so plain. But it suits you.”

David’s eyebrow rose.

“Plain but suits me? What do you mean?”

Otacon laughed, holding his hands up defensively.

“Just kidding! I’m Hal.”

They shook hands, rather awkward. That Hal was a nice guy, though. He told David about a special feature he’d set on the iDroid in case of emergency.

“Something tells me an emergency is definitely going to occur,” he said in a lower voice, looking up the sky.

“We’ll be fine,” David assured. “If you’re worried about Venom Snake, don’t be. Master Miller won’t let him push his limits.”

Otacon looked him in the eye. His smile was faint and quite aloof.

“Anyway, in case you need anything, be it trivial support or a helicopter call, press this grey button over here. The connection is tied to my laptop.”

David nodded and patted his back. Maybe it was a little too strong, for Otacon reeled on his heels.

“I’ll be going, then,” David said, rather unnecessary. As if he clung for a chance to prolong a moment of peace he didn’t know he wanted.

“Good luck.”

And David disappeared in the dark. Otacon stood on the roof, hands in pockets, peering at the horizon where the first rays of sun already were merging with the deep indigo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kept you waiting, huh?   
> The amount of pseudo-scientific bullshit in this chapter is almost disturbing, but I hope you all enjoyed it.


End file.
